


Ultimatum

by wwaywwardVvagabond



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Friendship, Gen, Gon is lonely, Hisoka and Gon go on adventures get into shenanigans and accidentally becomes friends along the way, Hisoka is a Huge Dweeb, Humor, Leorio appreciation, More characters to come, Post-Series, accidental angst, canon typical creepiness, gon is a serial dad collector, how does Gon put up with this trash clown, loss of Nen, no hisogon!!, or at least, the clownman will suffer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4747010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wwaywwardVvagabond/pseuds/wwaywwardVvagabond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ging gave Gon an ultimatum: he either stays happy as a normal person, or he seeks out another goal and works to recover his Nen.<br/>Hisoka makes a surprise visit, and helps to motivate Gon in taking the initiative to search the world for a cure for his missing Nen, and a new purpose in his life.<br/>Chaos ensues.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>"I'll tell you what," he eventually purred. "I'm going to help you get your Nen back."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Boy Setting Out for a Journey

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first posted fic since the peak of ffnet's popularity sO i am rusty
> 
> this fic picks up soon after ch. 345 of the manga
> 
>  
> 
> _memories_

_I’m fine with it ending… right here._

Fallen leaves scattered before his boots, tumbling in the grass as he kicked at them.

_If you want more, there will be a price to pay._

Mito taught him not to be greedy, but he’d always been a selfish person. Killua told him that all the time.

_You should be happy._

He couldn’t be happy when he was so restless. His fists tightened at his sides. He was allowed to be selfish, wasn’t he?

_You’re alive. Isn’t that enough?_

He was suddenly very certain that a sedentary lifestyle would never be enough. Not when there was still so much left to do.

He unclenched a fist just enough to reach into his coat pocket and pull out his Hunter license, flipping it over in his hand absently. The card still marked him as a Pro Hunter, even though he was now far removed from one, and he gritted his teeth in frustration before shoving the license back into his pocket.

_This is a great chance for you to figure out what you want to do._

He knew what he wanted to do: he wanted to live life freely; he wanted to go exploring with Killua, help Kurapika track down the Phantom Troupe, travel with Kite. He’d promised to protect them all. Nenless… he could do nothing.

If he’d been stronger, he could’ve gone on the expedition with Ging - now, he couldn’t even detect the presence of his father’s once-dazzling aura.

The trees around him grew taller and denser as he continued diving through the forest, wading through lush thickets and protruding roots, and his thoughts became just as invasive.

_I don’t need you, Killua! This has nothing to do with you!_

Gon clutched at his temples and shook his head. This had been resolved already, they’d been over this.

_As far as I’m concerned, you’ll always be in second place._

He came to a full stop, staring blankly ahead with wide eyes, feeling an ache bloom deep in his chest. Second place… of course he was in second place. Killua had Alluka to look after now, to keep him company, and Gon could hardly pretend that he could protect either of them anymore. He wasn’t _needed_. Especially not now, especially now that Gon constantly felt empty, unfulfilled, and cold.

“Damn it,” he swore, feeling the familiar prickling of tears, and he reared back to slam his fist into the nearest tree trunk to quell the anxious quivering of his muscles. He half expected the tree to splinter and keel over from the force of his impact, but it did nothing except shudder slightly, more of its leaves fluttering to the ground. “Damn it,” he repeated in a low mumble, and the icy coil of helplessness settled low in his gut.

He’d never presume to be anything but second place.

_But then why did it hurt so much?_

* * *

 

Gon had deftly avoided doing homework for the past two days, and while he had an idea that it’d catch up to him later, he couldn’t bring himself to regret feeling the gentle breeze card through his hair and the warm sun on his skin. Whenever he could, he would busy his hands with gathering food from the market, passing over his fresh catches to trade for some article or the other, or, on days like today, gripping the worn handle of his fishing rod. Anything to mollify the itch that festered beneath his skin in his need to _do something._

He'd already recaptured the Lord of the Swamp twice since he'd been home, which had been for perhaps a month. This day he planned for it to be his third. It was far more tedious and simple than anything he had done as a Hunter, or even as an applicant, but with it he honed the fishing skills that he had neglected for so long. He preferred to think of it as one of Bisky's training methods.

He sat idly on his leafy outcropping, bouncing his leg up and down as he scoured the waters below. From the corner of his eye he spotted the telltale shadow roving the murky depths, and he gripped the pole tighter in anticipation, jiggling the bright pink lure to make it more appetizing. The Lord darted back and forth tauntingly, considering the bait, and then launched at it. The float bobbed tentatively, then harsher as the Lord became more daring, and Gon jerked the pole upwards mightily to expertly hook the creature’s lip. The strength of Gon’s heave was enough to propel the beast into the air with a loud splash, the water that dripped from its scales creating a curtain of spray that doused Gon rather thoroughly. Its fish-like body flapped wetly as it fell until Gon caught it with a grunt, upside-down, the anthropoid legs straining as it kicked out at the air. “He seems smaller this time,” Gon observed privately, watching the Lord’s whiskers wiggle as it struggled against him. Then he shrugged, unhooking his lure from its mouth and tossing the creature back into the water with ease. It hit the water, temporarily paralyzed, before swimming away hurriedly.

Gon picked up his rod and began to put it away, jumping down from his vantage point to stand again on the muddy marshland terrain, expecting a commotion like that to be met with what it often was: by swamp sounds, and silence.

Today, though, there followed an abrupt round of polite clapping and a familiar lilting voice praising him, "Excellent show, Gon! Not bad at all~"

He whirled to find the voice, eyes wide with wariness. He took a quick step back when he zeroed in on the owner, immediately on the defensive. "H-Hisoka!"

Narrow golden eyes gleamed at him from where Hisoka sat perched on a tree branch, matching his cheshire grin, and as he fluidly leapt down to the ground Gon was abruptly reminded of an exotic jungle cat - all languid, graceful limbs and the unmistakable air of a predator.

The magician tilted his head as he smiled brightly. "Yo, Gon," he greeted amicably, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

Possibly nothing was so out-of-place as a candy-coated clown in the middle of the tranquil swamps of Gon's home island.

Birds circled and called overhead as they continued to watch each other in silence - Gon with trepidation, tightly gripping the handle of his fishing rod, and Hisoka in relaxed amusement, folding his arms as he approached an increasingly apprehensive Gon only to lean up against the tree trunk nearest to the boy.

“Why are you here?” Gon eventually demanded, eyeing him with little measure of trust.

Hisoka tutted at him. “And here I thought you’d be more welcoming to an old friend,” he chastised, which did nothing but make Gon bristle in a way that the magician seemed to find highly entertaining. “Really, I’m just here to visit,” he insisted innocently, before sighing in defeat as Gon continued to stare at him doubtfully. “It seems you’ve worn me down,” he dramatically declared, and then shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Very well - I might have run into Kurapika while on some business, and he might have told me why you’d been hospitalized.”

Gon was momentarily stunned. “Kurapika’s okay!” he shouted once his brain caught up with him, unthinkingly grinning up at Hisoka, who was watching him curiously. He let his smile fall. “He is okay, isn’t he?”

The man hummed thoughtfully in response. “He seemed mostly stable, in any case,” he remarked, and Gon swiftly lost most of his hope for Kurapika’s condition. It must be bad, if he had been deemed mildly unstable by possibly the most unstable person Gon knew of. “Either way,” Hisoka recommenced, decidedly calling attention back to himself, “I eventually persuaded him to inform me that you had been hospitalized due to Nen overuse.” He bent at his waist, jostling his earrings as he looked down on Gon with clinical fascination. “Now isn’t that interesting? To be placed on death row by your own Nen… and then to have survived. What kind of covenant had you made?”

His eyes bore into the boy, who partially wilted in response to Hisoka’s question, picking at a nonexistent fray on his sleeve. The reminder of his broken covenant only made his guilt over his dissatisfaction with life all the more pronounced. But Hisoka’s gaze was persistent, and he showed no evidence of backing away any time soon, so Gon relented. “I told it I was willing to die,” he murmured so softly that he was amazed Hisoka had heard it at all.

Hisoka looked impressed rather than scandalized. “And yet you still stand,” he commented, more to himself, and stood up straight again. “I wonder,” he said, louder, with a ruminative finger to his chin, “what kind of creature forced you to resort to that.” He seemed positively inflamed by the idea of the existence of such a creature, his eyes averted to the side and tongue slowly caressing his upper lip, and Gon felt himself grimacing. He also found himself suddenly worried for the sakes of his Ant friends, should Hisoka ever realize what they were and choose to seek them out.

“Chimera Ants,” he said, by way of explanation, and refused to expand further. “And I killed it. All of the Ants that were a threat are dead now.” He and the entire Hunter team had paid steep sacrifices in order to be doubly sure of that.

“Yes, Illumi had said as much.” He gazed at Gon almost ardently, gold eyes wide and hungry. A fearful chill ran down Gon’s spine. “To imagine,” Hisoka breathed, “that I had been absent to witness the moment of your fruition… Well, no matter. I’m sure you have been ripening quite nicely…” He took a step back, planting his foot firmly into the ground, his fingers twitching sporadically. “Gon!” he cried challengingly. “I want you to fight me!”

Gon stared at him unblinkingly, with dread settling in his chest. Hisoka was unpredictable enough to be extremely dangerous when Gon told him- “I lost my Nen,” he said, as straightforward as he could.

“...What.”

“It’s gone. I used too much. I can’t fight you.”

There was a moment when Hisoka looked absolutely rabid, with shadowed eyes and a severe downward angle to his lips - and then it passed, and the magician was chuckling. “Of course,” he mused, still laughing. “The covenant must have stolen away your Nen in order to barely spare your life. Of course you lost your Nen, too.”

Gon ignored his odd comments and averted his attention, turning his head to the side with furrowed brows. “Before you ask, I’ve already tried reinitiation with the Nen users that come through the port sometimes. I meditate and train every day. It’s just… gone.”

Hisoka’s penetrating scrutiny was at odds with his ostentatious color scheme, and those two things conflicted further when he eventually nodded sagely and assured, “There are always loopholes when it comes to Nen.”

Gon’s breath caught, and Hisoka’s grin stretched so broadly that his facepaint cracked, and faint jagged lines of peachy skin were visible around his mouth. “Tell me,” Gon demanded.

Hisoka angled his head back, making a sharp noise of pleasure in his throat as he closed his eyes into contented slits. His lips slowly curled upward into a gratified smirk, visibly deliberating something. Gon wasn't sure he wanted to know what exactly churned in the magician's mind. "I'll tell you what," he eventually purred, regarding Gon with a heavy-lidded stare that could only be described as ravenous, and the boy shuddered. Hisoka crouched so that they were at eye level. "I'm going to help you get your Nen back," he said, graciously, and halted any of Gon's protests with a spindly finger pressed to his lips. "On one condition," he continued. "When you get it back... you're going to fight me - no restrictions." Hisoka smiled, saccharine sweet, pleasantly ignoring the way Gon shoved his finger aside in irritation and drew himself up to his full 4-feet-10-inches.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Gon asserted, steadfastly meeting Hisoka's gaze and unconsciously puffing his cheeks out. "And I'm definitely not accepting any favors from you!"

Hisoka's grin fell, exaggerating the new pout of his lower lip. "That's too bad," he lamented, and pushed himself closer to Gon, their faces entirely too close. "What a _lonely_ life you'll lead, stuck on this island, won't you?" The magician's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Powerless, friendless... And now that you've gotten a taste of the outside world, how will you stand it here? Hmm. Well..." He sighed melodramatically, sitting back on his haunches before standing. "It has been a pleasure to see you, Gon, as always..." He turned as if he planned on leaving Gon behind.

Gon clenched his fists, gritting his teeth and fighting back the sudden tears that were equal parts anger and frustration.

There was nothing in the world he needed more than to take a venture off of this island - a fact that caused him further guilt, because he had Aunt Mito, of course - but it still stood that it wasn't the same, and it would never be the same as what he'd left behind in the busy streets of Zaban.

Being Nenless meant he was practically useless - and who would want him when he'd been broken? Certainly not the Hunter Association - and not Killua, who didn’t particularly have a need for him anymore.

He craved an adventure, an expedition, _something_ so that he wasn't stuck, idle, on an island he'd already explored several times over and where everything reminded him of Killua or Kite or the thrill of being a Pro Hunter in the field.

Hisoka was, among other things, a direct link to that world of haphazard exploits. He would, at the very least, act as the elixir vitae to Gon’s need for the rush of excitement, the temporary antidote to that infuriating itch that lingered beneath his skin - in not the most savory of ways, but beggars could hardly be choosers, after all.

He'd never imagined how frustrating true weakness could be, and no matter the method, he wasn't going to be weak any longer.

He bowed his head, shaking with the tension that constricted him. "Wait!" he called out to Hisoka, despite himself, and felt the pit of his stomach plummet with how helpless he sounded.

At that, Hisoka paused in his histrionic exit, and a wicked leer split his face. “Good boy,” he lauded with mockery, swiftly returned to Gon’s side and patting his head with a clawed hand. “After all, I did promise to protect you, didn’t I?”

“Why would you do that? What do you gain?”

“Oh, Gon,” Hisoka tutted, feigning hurtfulness. “You wound me with your doubt in my altruism. Did you forget our adventures in Greed Island already?” he added when Gon eyed him doubtfully. He chuckled once Gon had the cognizance to look mildly ashamed, and tucked a rogue lock of crimson hair back behind his ear as he smirked and continued, “Besides, I’ve already told you what I’ll be getting from this… investment.”

Gon’s eyes roved over him, searching up and down for the physical manifestation of the magician’s untrustworthiness. "And what if I refuse?"

Hisoka shrugged. "Well, that's your prerogative," he said offhandedly, before abruptly sobering. "But if you fail to get your Nen to return soon..." He teased Gon's cheek with the sharpened edge of a playing card, which had materialized in Hisoka’s hand faster than Gon could have noticed. "I think you remember what it was that I had said," he murmured dangerously.

_It takes a mere second for treasure to turn to trash._

They were both intimately aware of what happened to those Hisoka considered worthless.

There were several heartbeats of diagnostic silence between both of them before Gon batted Hisoka’s card away from his face. “Fine,” he agreed, through clenched teeth. “I’ll…” He couldn’t believe the words that were coming from his mouth. “I’ll go with you.”

“Oh, excellent!” the magician proclaimed delightedly, clapping his hands together, as if he hadn’t just threatened Gon’s life - and then Hisoka was smiling again, but softer this time.

Gon rolled his eyes, and caught himself thinking that this proposed enterprise couldn’t possibly be worse than the ordeal in NGL - and once he recovered his Nen he’d be a Hunter again and able to protect his friends as he promised he’d would. He had to.

“But,” Hisoka hastily added, immediately recapturing Gon’s attention, “you have to prove that you mean it.” His smile quirked up into sharp edges. “There’s a ship leaving for Yorknew tomorrow at 3 o’clock. We’ll start there - and if you don’t catch it, I won’t be returning for you. It’s your choice, ultimately.” He closed his eyes as he continued to grin for a small while, before spinning on his heel and retreating back into the density of the forest. “Ciao, Gon~”he said with a small wave, before leaping swiftly back into the treetops, and then he was gone.

If it weren’t for the miniscule cut on his cheek, and the slight tremors of his hands in the aftermath, Gon wouldn’t have been able to tell Hisoka had even been there at all. He sagged against the nearest tree and exhaled deeply.

_Yorknew, 3 o’clock._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> according to the wiki Gon is actually 5'1" but oh well
> 
> the next chapter is where the actual shenanigans start I promise


	2. Encounter x Hesitation x Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i have NO DISCIPLINE AS A WRITER I'M SORRY
> 
> here's two chapters to make up for it
> 
> i barely remember how to characterize them whoops

The first order of business before he took on this great venture was to face Mito.

It was on his return to the house that he realized this, and it drew him up short with dawning horror. He had a sneaking suspicion that Mito would be less than impressed with his decision to start his adventures anew.

For a moment he considered using Mito's inevitable resistance as an excuse to forego traveling with Hisoka - the classic "my mom said no" trick - but soon enough aborted that idea. He had made a promise - to himself more than to Hisoka - to recover his Nen and to return to his full strength, and as staying on Whale Island seemed to create more problems than solve them, he hedged that traveling abroad to find anything concerning his condition would be his best bet. In a big world fraught with dangers, Gon realized that shadowing a Nen master, even one as twisted as Hisoka, would be the quickest way to reattain what he’d lost. More importantly, it meant his survival.

Gon gave a resigned sigh and continued his trek, hefting his net full of freshly caught fish as he hiked up the final slope to the house.

* * *

 

He broached the subject at dinner that night, stirring his soup thoughtfully before setting his spoon down with finality. Mito glanced up at him curiously. Grandma Freecss made no indication that she was paying attention.

“Is there something wrong with the soup, Gon?”

He shook his head, steeling himself. “Aunt Mito…” he started, before he could lose his resolve. “I… I’m missing my Nen,” he said as a preamble, and she nodded. What she knew about it was limited, but he had told her of his situation before. “And I really need it back. But nothing I’m doing is working.” He looked down before she could say anything, tightly grasping the fabric of his shorts in his fists. When he looked back up, his brows were furrowed in determination. “I’m leaving for Yorknew tomorrow to get it back,” he announced decisively.

Mito was absolutely still for several long seconds, blinking at him. She set down her spoon also, making a show of wordlessly wiping at her mouth. Grandma Freecss continued to slurp at her soup as if she had heard nothing, unbothered. “No,” Mito finally said, tone firm and gaze hard as she watched him. There was an edge to her voice that warned Gon not to continue pressing the issue, but he couldn’t afford to heed it as he usually did.

He stood abruptly in his excitement, his chair squealing on the wooden floors behind him. “But-”

“Sit down,” Mito snapped, a single eyebrow climbing higher with each passing second. He scrambled to comply, sitting on his hands.

Grandma Freecss had taken to attacking her salad with ferocity instead of paying attention to the other two.

Mito’s expression softened. “I know you want to get it back,” she said. “But it’s too dangerous.”

“But Aunt Mito,” he protested, “I took the exam-”

“And that was bad enough already,” she interrupted. “Gon, you just got home. Before that, it had been two months without correspondence. How am I supposed to feel about that? I don’t even know what you were doing - what if something had happened to you?”

Gon thought it would be for the best if Mito simply never found out about the whole hospital incident. “But nothing did,” he said innocently. “Aunt Mito, I’ll be fine - Killua and I were fine before -”

“So what do you need Nen for now?”

Gon paused, hesitating, before he brightened and replied, “So that I can go exploring, like Ging!” He worried his bottom lip. “And… so that I can keep up with my friends…” All of them were so far beyond him now. He feared that it wouldn’t be long until they found him utterly useless - “Please, Aunt Mito, it’s just Yorknew, I promise I can handle myself…” He stared at her with round, imploring eyes.

“Let him go,” Grandma Freecss finally interjected, flapping her hand after having polished off her helping of the salad. “He’s his father’s son - you know that. Getting off of this island will be healthy for him.” Gon nodded along to this agreeably.

Mito heaved a sigh, pushing aside her food with certainty so that she could massage her temples. “What are you hoping to get out of going there that you don’t have here?” she asked eventually.

Gon considered this. “A Nen master. New techniques. Research. Anything.”

She looked uncertain. She looked askance at the older woman, who was still nodding encouragingly, and pensively chewed at the inside of her cheek. Gon stared at her. “You have too much homework to do,” she said weakly.

That had never stopped him before. He dared to look hopeful, and she glared at him until he was submissive. She sighed again. “When would you leave?”

“3 o’clock,” he said, fidgeting.

“Hmm.” She looked away, picked up her drink, set it down again, and placed her hands in her lap. Grandma Freecss was looking back and forth between them. “You’re going to be taking your homework with you,” Mito finally said resolutely. “And it had better be done by the time you get back. And all of your chores had better be done before you leave. And make sure you send a letter at least once a month.”

Gon leapt up from the table again, nearly knocking over his plate in the process. “Thank you, Aunt Mito!” He bounced on the balls of his feet, running to kiss Mito on the cheek and his grandmother on the forehead. His grandmother was grinning knowingly, but there was a bitter smile on Mito’s lips. He chose not to dwell on it.

* * *

 

Fueled by excitement, and having a new bargain to uphold, Gon blew through his chores faster and more efficiently than he could remember ever having done before.

He slept fitfully that night. Grandma Freecss’s snores were audible through the thin walls of the small house, but Gon could hardly manage to close his eyes.

Judging from the glowing lights visible from beneath his bedroom door, Mito was in a similar state of sleeplessness. He considered joining her at the kitchen table, but decided against it and instead turned over to gaze at the stars from his window. He traced with his eyes what few constellations he could make out. It was a long while before he was finally able to drift off into a light slumber.

He awoke just after the dawn, springing from his bed and emerging to find Mito and Grandma Freecss already busy in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Grandma Freecss greeted warmly, which was repeated with less enthusiasm by Mito. Gon cheerfully returned the greeting, bounding about the kitchen and exchanging kisses with each of his family members before seating himself at the table in the anticipation of a meal. Breakfast was a quick affair, consisting mostly of some fruits, cheese, and bread left over from the night before. Gon practically inhaled it at a rate inconceivable for most other kids his age - Grandma Freecss followed at a rather commendable pace as well. Mito didn’t touch her share, but instead appeared to be deep in thought.

She stayed seated as Gon jumped up from the table, running about the house and gathering all the items he intended to keep in his distinctive green backpack after he completed the last of his chores. He didn’t have much time to dawdle before he had to depart - it was imperative that he leave early enough to make it to the port on time. Hands still damp from washing up the dishes, Gon flung all the Jenny he had managed to save - which wasn’t much - into his backpack, keeping it wrapped up in an old, tattered sock. He slung the bag over his shoulder.

“Gon,” Mito said calmly, halting him as he reached the kitchen again. She looked torn for a second, then held out his father’s old fishing pole. “I cleaned it up for you a bit last night,” she elaborated. “It’ll be better if you have this with you.” He turned it over in his hands, observing the shiny new coat of resin that lacquered the wood.

His smile was dazzling as he settled the pole into his backpack as well. “Thank you!” he exclaimed.

“I’m not done.” His smile died as he watched her pull a thick stack of papers from the table and wave it in his direction. He groaned painfully. It was a pile of maths problems. “They had better be done when you get back,” she stressed with a raised brow as he squirmed uncomfortably beneath her gaze.

“Yes, Aunt Mito,” he intoned dutifully, regretfully taking off his backpack and pushing the the papers in with all the speed of a dying man.

Once they were out of sight, and Mito looked sufficiently pleased, the maths problems were evidently out of mind, because it wasn't long until Gon was cheerful and skipping about again. He scampered out the door, looking back only to kiss his grandmother on the cheek and share a prolonged embrace with Mito. “Bye-bye!” He waved to them excitedly once he reached the top of the hill just beyond their house. “I'll be back soon!” Then he turned and ran, disappearing behind the hillside, jogging down the path that eventually led to the port - as most paths did.

* * *

 

The port was as noisy and bustling as ever, with people ducking in and out of the ticketmaster’s station and weaving between the bright colors of the tear-down market. Peddlers and merchants hailed pedestrians, lending to the constant chatter and noise that rose up from the vibrant tents as they shoved their wares in the faces of passers-by, hoping to charm the masses with quick smiles and loud voices. Gon sidestepped outstretched arms that proffered vases, tacky jewelry (“true Whale Island culture!”), and raw fish, flaky scales covering the merchants hands. There was something new to be seen every day, and he paused with some measure of awe at the cart of a little old woman advertising shiny stones that were promised to grant powers, but Gon couldn’t allow himself to be distracted for long. He had little money as it was, and judging by the tides and the position of the sun, was about 2 o’clock. He pushed forward, pointedly ignoring the little electric blue stone that was apparently meant to bring good fortune and weather.

The dock was nearly filled with an array of vessels, rocking gently and tugging against their tethers as the the tides drifted out and sunk lower. Flocks of seagulls hopped around madly, squawking and crowding around any crumbs or fish that sailors had happened to leave around. Most of the docked boats were fishing ships, through there was scattering of small, private leisure ships, too. Presumably, it was one of the private ships that would take them to Yorknew - but it’d be no short journey, based on his very limited knowledge of its location.

“Excuse me, sir,” he asked the ticketmaster once he approached the window of the rather rundown wooden ticket building. “Which ship is the one leaving for Yorknew at 3 o’clock?”

The ticketmaster was a thickly-set man who looked down his nose and past his bushy mustache to eye Gon dubiously. After a moment, he nodded to something over Gon’s shoulder. “That ocean liner,” he said once Gon turned.

The boy gaped. The passenger ship was huge, easily spanning several hundred feet and emblazoned with the name _The Andromedus_ on the side. Such liners were often very high in - “Cost?” Gon prompted, sweat beading on his brow. Even with the humble pile of Jenny he had brought, he wasn’t sure if it would be enough to cover the expenses of an extravagant commercial ocean liner.

The ticketmaster looked bored. “1200 Jenny, without a cabin,” he answered perfunctorily.

“1200 Jenny…” Gon repeated breathlessly. He had perhaps half of that - and it couldn’t even get him on board, let alone a bed. He frowned deeply, wracking his brain. He could always stow away, certainly - but he didn’t want to have to do that. He fingered the edges of his Hunter’s license before gripping it tightly, steeling himself in the face of having no other choice. He doubted it would do much, but if it wasn’t enough he wasn’t sure he could have it pawned away in time to catch the ship, and then he couldn’t -

“Look, kid,” the ticketmaster sighed, interrupting his somewhat frantic train of thought. “You’re holding up the line. Either buy a ticket or scram.”

Gon fidgeted, chewing on his tongue before inhaling sharply in his determination. “Sir, I have -”

His hand was abruptly stilled by another, gentle in its grip but vice-like nonetheless.. “My apologies, he’s with me,” a familiar voice purred above him. Gon flinched as a clawed hand descended on his shoulder and Hisoka bent over him to address the unfazed ticketmaster, almost curling himself around the boy. The ticketmaster simply grunted and shrugged, then shooed them away. Hisoka spun Gon around, dragging him away by his wrist.

Gon yanked free, rubbing at his arm and glowering at Hisoka, who in his usual style was dressed flamboyantly enough to contend with the obscenely bright draperies that were being sold at the market. “You never told me it was an ocean liner,” Gon accused, pouting obstinately.

“I love when you look at me like that,” Hisoka cooed instead of answering him, his eyes crinkling at the edges, which was enough to make Gon drop the expression immediately, but kept his brows furrowed. The magician chuckled to himself, and then presented the boy with a pair of playing cards held between two fingers. Gon fought the urge to shrink away from them, but found that with a rapid and graceful flick of his wrist, Hisoka now held out two tickets instead. “I’ve already bought boarding passes for the both of us,” he explained mildly when Gon looked puzzled.

“Oh.” Gon blinked up at him, still somewhat confused, but after a moment his face cleared and he smiled gratefully. “Okay!” He wasn’t fond of starting out on this journey already 1200 Jenny in debt - indebted to Hisoka, no less, who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of calling in that favor - but he could worry about that later.

Hisoka’s lips quirked upward in a small smirk, evidently quite pleased with Gon’s compliance, and wordlessly led the boy to the waiting ship.

* * *

 

Boarding was a far less hectic affair - Gon nervously gave in his ticket, suddenly worried that it might be fraudulent, because that was just something that Hisoka would do, but the ticket collector merely gave him a once-over with a raised brow and a curt nod. Gon relaxed, barely noticing as the man handed them only one small, metal key that swiftly disappeared in Hisoka’s fist.

They made their way to the bow of the ship, standing there for some time in strangely companionable silence. Hisoka leaned on the railing, spinning the key between his fingers as Gon craned his neck over the side of the boat to watch the fish that thronged and flitted below them. There was the last call for all aboard, the wooden planks creaking and shifting just slightly as mobs of people continued to make their ways to wherever it was they had their business. Gon gripped the side tightly as the anchors were raised with mighty clangs, making the ship lurch as it jerked away from its place at the dock and began drifting out to sea. The rectangular sails unfurled overhead with a mighty fluttering and snapping of sailcloth, and Hisoka finally urged Gon away from the edge. “Come, Gon,” he coaxed, holding himself with an almost suspicious amount of calmness, though for once Gon was rather content to follow him mostly wordlessly, seeing that the man seemed to know his way around these types of ridiculously large ships better than Gon did.

Hisoka stopped in from of a cabin door designated as 62K. Gon fished out his ticket from his backpack and scrutinized it. “Oh,” he remarked. “This is mine.” He looked to Hisoka for the key, only to find the man withholding it, dangling it just out of reach.

“It’s my key, also,” the magician said matter-of-factly, and his face lit up with the trademark smug smile that he’d been missing for the past few minutes. Gon squinted at him, his eyes flicking back and forth between Hisoka’s face and the key swaying between his fingers as he visibly and painstakingly pieced the situation together. “Oh,” Hisoka added innocently, enjoying the strained look on Gon’s face and placing a thoughtful finger to his cheek. “Perhaps I should have mentioned that I only purchased one cabin.” Gon blanched, and his companion smiled with falsified sincerity. “It was cheaper,” Hisoka said in his own defense.

The boy sighed, unable to find enough foundation on which to be angry after a few faltering moments. After all, the magician had paid Gon’s fare, even if it was the minimum amount. At least that meant Gon was given some shelter, and if there was one thing he had learned in his travels with Killua, it was to grateful for the small things. “It can’t be helped,” he finally said simply, and snatched the key from a somewhat dumbfounded Hisoka’s fingers to unlock their door.

Hisoka blinked rapidly for a moment in surprise, before recovering and falling into his default pokerface. He followed closely behind Gon. The room was modestly furnished, with bland walls and two small beds pushed up against the side wall, a short chest-of-drawers separating them. The only sources of light were a porthole window and a lump of a candle now plastered to the top of the dresser with several layers of melted wax.

Gon sat on the bed closest to the door, swiftly designating it as his as he patted experimentally at the bedsheets. He’d certainly had worse, so this was more than satisfactory. He glanced up to meet Hisoka’s flat gaze, brows thoughtfully furrowed. “Why did you pay for me?” he asked, genuinely curious. “You didn’t have to.”

“Would you have gotten on board if I hadn’t?” the man countered instead, with the smug look of someone who had already made his point quite clear.

“Yes,” Gon answered immediately, with determination setting his lips into a thin line.

Hisoka arched his eyebrow, something unreadable changing in his expression. It looked almost like pride, actually. Then he just turned and left their room, leaving Gon hanging and confused.

Disliking being kept inside, Gon soon followed, adjusting the straps of his backpack on his shoulders and leaping from the bed, nearly forgetting to lock the door behind him in the process.

Outside, the air was crisp and chilly, and Gon took a moment to breathe in the cloyingly salty breeze that buffeted against the ship. A few deckhands milled about here and there, and the deck was dotted with the occasional passengers, but the ship was otherwise mostly quiet. The sails fluttered above, and more distantly Gon could make out the creaking of the wooden floorboards. He craned his neck to see to the tops of of the masts - they were the tallest he’d ever seen, reaching up into the sky and cutting through the low-drifting clouds.

When he squinted, he could just make out a tall silhouette sitting atop the highest mast. Up on the riggings, Hisoka was a splash of color against the pale blue sky, all pastel pinks and cherry reds and soft purples. Even still, he made an imposing figure, gazing out across the ocean with what seemed to be a contemplative expression and casting a long shadow along the deck of the ship.

Gon considered just returning to the bow of the ship, unsure if he wanted to speak with Hisoka at the moment - or even if Hisoka would be wanting of a companion at the moment - but a gesture from the figure caught his eye, beckoning him over, and he eventually just steeled himself, making the decision to follow the magician up the mast. He wanted to see the view from up there, anyway.

Hisoka was watching him mildly as he clambered up the rigging to meet the man, grasping the ropes and pulling himself up with perhaps a bit more difficulty than he would have liked. Gon finally settled himself next to Hisoka on the broad wooden beam, swinging his feet in the emptiness that gaped below them. He looked over the horizon, enjoying the way the briny air whipped past his face. He could see for miles, and he breathed in deeply, finding calm in the way his chest expanded with the cold sea wind. Climbing the masts of ships was a rare privilege, and he realized how free the endless span of open ocean made him feel as they sailed farther from Whale Island. Glancing back, he noticed Hisoka looking at him oddly, calculatingly. Gon swallowed, suddenly and inexplicably a bit nervous, and sat on his hands as he continued to swing his legs.

He decided to break the stiff silence. “How long will this trip take?”

Hisoka drew one leg up to his chest, playing with a few strands of bright pink Bungee Gum by stretching it between his fingers and then squishing it together again. “About three days,” he answered evenly. He started making the strands of his Nen into a cat’s cradle, threading it around his pale digits.

Gon nodded absently, and was content enough to remain silent and look back out to the sunset as the sun began to dip below the waves. Hisoka followed his gaze, studying the streaks of oranges and pinks that swept across the sky like brush strokes and deliberating on using them as inspiration for his next outfit.

As the skies started to dim, Gon estimated that it was around 6 o’clock, and he began feeling the familiar, though relatively minor, twinges of hunger. He refused to say anything of it, though.

Hisoka paused in his game of solitary cat’s cradle and glanced sideways at him after a few minutes, as if sensing something amiss. “Gon. Are you hungry?” he inquired, with a sincerity that once again made Gon feel wary.

Gon’s traitorous stomach answered for him, growling audibly, causing Hisoka to smirk knowingly before leaping down from his vigil on the mast. Gon followed closely after, just a bit more cautious than the magician, plucking at his salt-stiffened clothes once he reached the deck and shaking out his hair, taking a moment to scowl at Hisoka, who looked as smugly immaculate as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i adore grandma freecss
> 
> hisoka is an asshole
> 
> wow this was awful lol


	3. Steak x Marathon x The Trip Starts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still using 1999 title cards to the best of my abilities
> 
> Hisoka and Gon have no idea what a buffet is but they like it

Trying to find the mess hall might have proved disastrous if it weren’t for Gon’s exceptional sense of smell and growling stomach picking up on the scent trail of food that weaved throughout the ship. For several achingly long minutes, Gon was a bloodhound, nostrils flaring and brows scrunched up in an expression of laser focus. Hisoka was agreeable to follow him in amusement as he watched the boy’s antics.

Upon finally reaching the source of the smell, Gon lit up with the success of the find.

When he opened up the doors, the first thing they were met with was not the array of smells, but rather the wall of sound. All manners of people milled about around the lengthy hall, carrying varying degrees of food on plates of ceramic back to their seats, or in some cases pushing past Gon and Hisoka to leave the hall altogether. A small folk band was playing cheerfully in the corner, just audible over the clinking of glassware and the unintelligible chatter of the people. A few of the more free-spirited passengers had gathered by the bar to make merry and were just striking up a dance to the melody of the folk band, all flush-faced and loud.

Gon was gaping openly at all this, his wide eyes reflecting the light that gleamed off of the towering, polished silver platters and racks of pans that littered the tables. Hisoka was conscientious enough to be a bit more subtle about it, being a bit more accustomed to the wealthy sector of society, but they were both sure that it was the largest amount of food either of them had ever seen at once.

A large, handwritten sign stood by the tables and read “buffet.”

“Buffet?” Gon repeated aloud, pronouncing the ‘t’ and glancing quizzically up at Hisoka. The magician had no answer - he was the first he’d ever heard of a “buffet,” and could hardly hazard a guess as to what it entailed, either.

Asking someone would be simply absurd - they’d have to settle to observation.

Hisoka took to lurking in the corner, watching with a narrow gaze; Gon was still rather awestruck, and continued to stand in the center of the hall and stare around with saucer-eyes and a watery mouth.

It seemed people were just… taking.

As his stomach growled again, louder, Gon didn’t spend much time wondering if there was some kind of unspoken limit to this taking; he was quite happy enough to follow the examples of the other passengers and bounded forward. He loaded up a fanciful ceramic plate in a matter of seconds, then quickly grabbed a second, and then a stack more.

Hisoka eventually mimicked Gon’s actions much more reluctantly, but he mimicked them nonetheless, only slightly pickier about what he put on his plates. It was soon enough that they were each carrying a rather impressive stack of plates, Gon wobbling beneath the precarious balance of his while Hisoka nonchalantly licked mashed potatoes from his index finger.

They locked eyes, and they were in taciturn agreement that there was no way that taking so much food was legal. Hisoka smiled crookedly, with Gon looking decidedly more nervous but in no way about to put any of his spoils back. The boy shoved another fingerling sandwich into his mouth as they looked furtively around the establishment. No one seemed to have noticed them - in fact, they all looked perfectly pleased to be minding their own business, and the folk band continued to play merrily. They watched as some more people took their plates and walked out of the hall instead of sitting at one of the available benches, and Gon gawked after them, eyes round. “We can just… take it?” he asked quietly, almost astounded by this.

Hisoka set his jaw, looking determined. “It seems so,” he answered soberly. It was now that they were beginning to attract attention, with people murmuring about them in passing, shooting them worried glances as they still stood in the middle of the hall, obstructing people’s paths and looking somewhat lost. Gon tentatively stepped toward the exit, his eyes flicking hesitantly around the hall.

Taking the cue, they both scurried out, carefully balancing their food in heaps of chinking plates in their arms. Hisoka cheated by using Bungee Gum on the plates, though it did nothing for the loose bits of food on them, and they both trailed odd scraps like lettuce and bread crumbs behind them as they made their way back to the safe room.

Gon simply sat on the floor once they returned, shoveling food into his mouth at a breakneck pace in proper Gon fashion; Hisoka seated himself on his bed, balancing his multitude of plates along his lap once he criss-crossed his legs, and focused on constructing a card tower in between bites of whatever it was that he had grabbed.

It was all a bit rich, but Gon hardly seemed to notice. In fact he hardly seemed to even chew it. Hisoka didn’t mind the richness of the savory, meat-based sauces, but it did leave his stomach feeling a bit queasy after nearly a month of not eating properly, and eating lightly for even longer. He supposed he’d simply never gotten over the old habit of putting away whatever he could, whenever he could. His brows twitched at the thought.

Having finished long before Hisoka’s more reasonable pace, Gon flopped backwards on the floor amid the piles of empty buffet plates, feeling gorged and satisfied. He belched, then patted his stomach contentedly.

Hisoka was busy finishing off a dish of fruits, amusing himself by tying the cherry stems into impossible knots with his tongue, which he then proudly showed off to Gon, who was appropriately - and genuinely - impressed. The boy subsequently demanded the chance to try, and Hisoka tossed him the last cherry.

Predictably, Gon failed miserably at tying the stem, but he laughed as he held up his sadly drooping cherry stem, and the magician’s eyes crinkled at the corners.

The bed wobbled as Hisoka moved the plates from his lap, and the card tower that he’d previously been working on collapsed, cards fluttering as they scattered across the blankets. Gon watched them fall from his vantage point on the floor, and Hisoka caught his gaze. “Gon,” the man suddenly prompted, still smiling with his eyes, causing the boy to twitch. A few strands of Bungee Gum captured and returned the stray cards to his hand, and he waved the now-complete deck in front of his face as an invitation. “Would you like to play?”

Gon, so easily delighted by such little things, feeling giddy from the meal, and enticed by the idea of absolutely owning Hisoka in a card game, grinned brightly. Briefly, the man looked almost unsettled, but returned Gon’s smile quickly enough. Leaping from the floor with a new energy, Gon instead imitated Hisoka’s position and settled cross-legged on the bed, facing him with shining amber eyes. “What are we playing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this so ridiculous. they're so dumb
> 
> i'm sorry this is so short


	4. Hisoka x Alliance x Gon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gon and introspection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy (LATE) birthday to our favorite trash clown
> 
> also, I'm sure most of us have seen the latest manga update... here's to the clownman
> 
> I'm sorry I don't know what this chapter is but it's done so that's what matters

Hisoka had even let Gon choose the game: fishslap, a Whale Island classic, and widely unknown to the rest of the world - assuredly Gon’s ticket to victory, because Hisoka had never heard of such a game before. In fact, Gon was quite certain that the only person outside of Whale Island that understood the game was Killua. He even made sure to teach Hisoka the basics of the game in the most vague terms he could, which could be considered cheating, but knowing Hisoka, that was only a matter of semantics, and self-preservation.

Gon won the first round, of course. But Hisoka’s eyes had flickered to and fro the whole time, absorbing the strategy of the game, and working out for himself the technicalities that Gon generally didn’t bother with. The second round went to Hisoka, which Gon insisted was beginner’s luck, mostly to get Hisoka to stop looking so smug. By the third round, Gon’s tongue was stuck out in his concentration while Hisoka looked impressively nonchalant.

After the sixth time Gon called a rematch, and the flickering of the few elderly candles in the room was the only light that remained, he sighed in defeat. Hisoka, for all his disadvantages, had beaten him soundly at his own game.

Hisoka was just too good with cards, Gon supposed. He ignored the magician’s victorious expression.

“How do you even get so good at cards, anyway?” Gon asked, somewhat bitterly.

Hisoka looked amused. “Practice, my dear Gon,” he answered lightly, deftly recollecting his deck and glancing the boy up and down.

Gon frowned, visibly vexed, as if he were trying to wrap his head around the concept of being so skilled with a deck of cards.

“Perhaps you’ll best me one day,” Hisoka continued blithely, having already begun the construction of his n-th card tower.

The idea had already evaporated from Gon’s mind. He clambered down from Hisoka’s bed, brushing off his ridiculously green jacket. “I’m going to take a shower,” he announced. Hisoka only hummed his assent, so quickly completely engrossed in whatever it was that he found fascinating about card towers, and Gon lingered only a moment before moving on towards their - admittedly small - shared bathroom.

* * *

 

Gon wasn’t one in the habit of taking long showers, but the warm cascade of water felt so blessedly soothing on his skin that time seemed to tick by faster than it normally did. He scrubbed off the feeling and scent of home, with some regret, but now fully prepared to assume any and all future adventures. Each experience deserved its chance to leave its mark on a clean slate.

By the time he reemerged from the bathroom, he was left with only the candles for company; Hisoka had completely disappeared - there was not even a rumple in the bedsheets to indicate that the magician had existed at all.

Gon didn’t dare to hope for that, but it was a nice thought.

He stared blankly for some time at his backpack, which he had carelessly thrown onto the bed, and at the discarded buffet platters that his stomach told him had been polished off _ages_ ago. Briefly, he considered taking another visit to the buffet hall, and his stomach growled in encouragement of that.

Ordinarily, he would have complied quite easily with the whims of his more basic functions, but he hardly had anyone to enjoy it with at the moment. If Killua were here…

He’d really rather not go down that route.

Either way, he reasoned, nodding decisively to himself, Mito always did say that eating so late was bad for his body, and she’d been right about plenty of things before. He was hardly tired enough to go to sleep, though; nor was he naive enough to put himself in such a vulnerable position for Hisoka to return to. Maybe he’d get some fresh air.

He ignored the plaintive rumblings of his stomach and instead picked up his trusty backpack, guiltily feeling the crunch and crinkle of his maths homework at the bottom of the bag. He hadn’t particularly intended to consider doing it so soon.

He wouldn’t do so now, either. He conveniently forgot his responsibility, and pulled the straps of his backpack tight against his body to venture outside of the cabin once more.

It was a crisp night out, as nights on ships usually were, the salty sea breeze buffeting at Gon before he’d even stepped out fully onto the deck. The sky above him was pitch black except for the scattered, twinkling pinpricks of stars and the soft glow of a half-moon in the center of it all. From the position of the moon, it was definitely well past his usual bedtime.

The ship itself was hardly a dark place, though. Lantern lights gleamed warmly from the other end of the ship, nearest to the bow, where quite a few of the passengers were gathered, red-faced and laughing, to dance and make merry. The jaunty melodies of the folk band rose up on the wind to drift over the entire vessel. It was inviting, and had he been with Killua he would not have given it even a second thought - but he really wasn’t in the mood to socialize tonight.

He made his way to the side of the ship, leaning up against the railing to look out across the rough waters. The lights from the party on the deck illuminated the right portion of Gon’s face, along with the crests of the little waves that scattered across the black expanse of the ocean. He hunched into himself against the chill wind that blew across, unconsciously pulling the straps of his backpack tighter. The tiny stars were all laid out in the heavens, and extended farther than the horizon as they were reflected in the sea. He could pick out some of his favorite constellations from here, almost as well as he could from the clifftops of Whale Island. He remembered seeing a similar sight on his first voyage to Dolle Harbor, soon before he became acquainted with Leorio and Kurapika.

He smiled despite himself at the thought of them, their memories warm and comforting. He missed them, nearly as much as he missed Killua. He frowned. Something unpleasant settled in his gut - a nostalgia that felt more like homesickness.

He considered casting off a fishing line simply to divert his thoughts, but eventually decided against it. The waves were too choppy, and his numb fingers didn’t seem up to the task.

It had been some time since he had talked to either of his friends, Kurapika in particular, whom he hadn’t even heard from since the incidents with the Phantom Troupe. He had simply… disappeared, without so much as returning the calls from his friends - something Leorio had complained about often.

Gon agreed with him, but sometimes he wondered if there was more to the connection between Leorio and Kurapika than he’d originally anticipated.

He longed for Leorio’s easy company. He had considered calling him many times while he was stranded on Whale Island - but something nameless made his hand pause every time he reached for his cell phone. He could no doubt seek out the man once the ship landed; as far as Gon knew, Leorio was living in Yorknew to complete his medical studies, like he’d always wanted. Gon also had little doubt that Leorio would have any qualms about Gon taking up with him, to relearn Nen under the man’s watchful guidance - the idea of putting himself through the trials that awaited him ahead with Leorio by his side instead of Hisoka was incredibly, almost ridiculously enticing.

If he had learned anything from his previous exploits, though, it was that he needed to learn to be less selfish.

He would add only hardship to Leorio’s already full life. Imposing on his friend in that way would be unacceptable. He would never say so, but the last thing Leorio needed at the moment was to deal with Gon’s rather large problems as well as his own.

He might visit Leorio in Yorknew, but that would be all.

Perhaps the man had had some luck in reaching Kurapika, as well.

The _Andromedus_ lurched, sending Gon rocking forward, but he barely registered it. Kurapika… Gon could devote his efforts to searching for his friend, wherever he was - make sure he was safe, then help him in hunting down the scattered remains of the Phantom Troupe. He’d make himself of use, somehow -

No, that was stupid. As if he’d ever be anything but a burden to Kurapika, who would likely feel obligated to look after his friend - in the event that Kurapika would even want to be found. Without his Nen, Gon was useless to his friends.

Now that he was effectively broken… would Killua even want him anymore? Even his closest friend was unaware of his condition - his Nen had been functional, after all, for a few days subsequent to his recovery, before it’d finally sputtered out completely.

He was already “second place” as it was.

Without his power, he was too far removed from Killua. For now… For now, he didn’t deserve to see Killua again, even if he’d even had any inkling regarding his and Alluka’s whereabouts. A sharp pain streaked through his chest, white-hot and sudden. Gon needed to earn his place by Killua’s right hand again. Killua had always been the light to his dark. He knew, instinctively, that he would only last so long without it.

The waves dashed against the side of the ship; Gon’s face was spattered with cool ocean spray that drew him from his innermost thoughts.

He’d give anything to be with his friends now, but he knew that he didn’t deserve to impose on them in such a way, especially now that they were all miles beyond him. Perhaps it was telling that he could only find companionship in someone like Hisoka - companionship that had been mandated under duress, true, but it was companionship nonetheless.

But it was an alliance that was still too much of a gamble for him to feel comfortable. Ordinarily, Gon wouldn’t have given a whole lot of thought to being a burden on Hisoka; Hisoka had never particularly given Gon a reason to respect him very much, at any rate. However, Gon was broken, in desperate need of repair, and he was working on time borrowed from a psychopath given to tendencies of the murder-y kind. How long would it be until Hisoka got bored of him? In the magician’s terms, how much time did he have before Hisoka disposed of a fruit that refused to ripen?

It was a steeply hedged bet, to be sure.

He let the steady roar of the crashing waves and the ship’s engines to drown out his thoughts, permeated by the gentle chatter and music that were just beginning to die down at the bow. The ship lurched again, and he swayed into it before standing tall. His mind was carefully blank.

He dared to hope that perhaps all that he’d needed was a change in scenery.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of fish and the open seas and tasting the salt that invariably accompanied it. He imagined the flow of Nen within him, the power that resided in his core as it usually did; he focused on opening up his pores, and releasing both his tension and his spiritual energy. He exhaled, and tried to feel the expansion of his awareness, the trance-like state of meditation that came before the Nen.

He reached for his Ten, the most natural state of aura manipulation.

He felt nothing. There was nothing.

Keeping the familiar prick of disappointment at bay was difficult. He remembered Bisky’s extensive training: letting emotion get the best of you before you’ve even started spells only failure.

He tried once more, meditating for some time before attempting Ten.

There was nothing. There was no aura surrounding his body at all. He clenched his fists in frustration. It was so easy the first time he’d ever attempted Ten - this was _unfair_ -

Gon inhaled deeper this time to calm himself, and tried yet again, meditating for even longer this time. “ _Ten_!” he exclaimed aloud, pushing outward with all he had, attempting to find the balance he’d always had when he used Nen.

There was not so much as even a shift in energies. His eyes fluttered open so that he could rapidly blink away the tears of consternation that threatened to spill over his cheeks. How was he supposed to regain his powers when he couldn’t even find his own aura?

* * *

 

It took a few moments to calm down and for Gon to recall how to work his own joints.

A flash in his peripheral caught his eye; he startled, jumping back and immediately going on the defensive. Hisoka was seated on the railing beside him, legs crossed daintily. The magician seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, continuously shuffling and reshuffling his deck as he watched Gon. He was seemingly nonchalant - but his legs were curled on the railing so that he could leap down with ease at any given moment, his muscles noticeably taut. His eyes weren’t on the cards in his hand, but focused on Gon, yellow and glinting in the lantern light. He didn’t simply look prepared to jump away; he looked ready to attack, cards flicking between his fingers like a threat.

He was a predatory creature, Gon remembered. He had to keep remembering.

They watched one another for some time, each sizing the other up; Hisoka averted his attention first, instead studying the ace of hearts as if it were suddenly fascinating.

Gon eyed him warily for several more heartbeats, until he gauged that he was likely safe - for the moment. He allowed his gaze to flicker between Hisoka’s face and the choppy waters of the ocean over the magician’s shoulder. “How long have you been there, anyway?”

Hisoka’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “A while,” he said cryptically.

Gon sighed. He really shouldn’t have expected a straight answer. He turned to lean on the railing again, feeling the ocean spray speckle his cheek, keeping Hisoka in his peripheral. “Tell me about Kurapika,” he demanded.

Hisoka paused mid-shuffle. “Small for a Hunter,” he said eventually, and resumed entertaining himself. “A Conjurer, which is surprising -”

“I know that,” Gon retorted.

The magician blinked innocently. “You’re going to have to be more clear, then.”

Gon side-eyed him. “When you saw him. Did he tell you where he was going?”

Hisoka hummed thoughtfully. “I didn’t think to ask, to be truthful,” he said, almost regretfully. “I didn't particularly care.”

The boy tried not to wilt. It wasn't like he could have joined Kurapika, anyway. He wasn't sure what he'd hoped to gain by asking.

Leorio might know, just maybe, but that was only if Gon found him in Yorknew, and at a good time. Gon figured he was a busy man.

Hisoka was looking at him again, in that calculating way of his that made Gon more inclined to believe that the man wanted to devour him more than he wanted to chat. “If you’re going to try the emotional way, you’re going to have to let yourself be more extreme,” Hisoka eventually reasoned.

“You’re saying I should… be more emotional?” Gon asked.

“I’m saying you should pick one and stick with it.” A card came awfully close to Gon’s face. “I can always help you with that, if you’d like.” Hisoka’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and the boy could see the creases in the magician’s skin that he would have classified as laugh lines in anyone else, but on Hisoka, he wasn’t quite sure what they signified.

He eyed Hisoka’s stance, cautiously drawing back out of the card’s immediate reach, and hopefully far enough away that he wouldn’t trigger the man’s pouncing on him. “No thanks,” he said flatly. This man could kill him in less than a second.

Hisoka chuckled to himself, as if he had expected Gon’s response, or at the least found it funny it ways that Gon didn’t. He retreated, and swung his legs to and fro from his perch. The _Andromedus_ , still moving at an impressive pace, hit another spot of turbulence; Hisoka stayed perfectly balanced on the railing as if it had stayed completely stationary.

“Gon, you should try making a card tower some time,” Hisoka remarked suddenly, a complete non-sequitur. “I find it surprisingly cathartic.”

Gon pretended to know that ‘cathartic’ meant, but judging by the expressions Hisoka sometimes made while building his many card towers, the boy didn’t think he wanted to have anything to do with ‘cathartic.’

He looked back out across the water, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Well. For all the uncertainty Hisoka’s presence brought, it at least succeeded in taking Gon’s mind off of his frustrations. “What are you hoping to find in Yorknew that would help me?” the boy asked after a few minutes of silence.

The magician hummed. “I have a few… connections… in the underground. There is a surprising number of resources that most refuse to utilise simply because the people there are unsavory, or the artifacts are off of the black market.”

That sounded reasonable enough to Gon.

They fell into silence again. After the ordeal in NGL, Gon had grown to appreciate silences a bit more.

The moon drifted farther across the sky, and got close to dipping down into the sea. Gon yawned wide enough to show off his impressively white molars, spittle gathering at the corners of his mouth and tears of exhaustion springing up in his eyes.

Hisoka must have been watching. “Come, Gon,” he said immediately. “You should sleep.”

The boy scrutinized him suspiciously. “I’m not sleeping with you in the room,” he said obstinately. He wasn’t that dumb.

Hisoka sighed. “I’m hardly about to kill you after day one,” he said, and his long-suffering tone was one that Gon had never heard him use before. “I told you I would keep you safe.” _For now_ went unspoken, but both understood it as if Hisoka had said it aloud.

Gon gripped at the straps of his backpack. “Fine,” he conceded, seeing little other choice. “What about you?” he inquired as he already began to make his way back to their cabin. “You’re going to sleep too, right?”

“Perhaps,” Hisoka humored.

If he did sleep, Gon hadn’t been awake to witness it; his eyes were closed just as soon as his head hit the pillow. The last thing he recalled was Hisoka’s bed being covered in impressive card towers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1999 Hisoka is such a dweeb that canonically sleeps next to giant card towers that he makes on the bed  
> I think that's fantastic
> 
> Thank you for your patience!!


	5. Chatting x Excuses x Endurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: if you like what you see here, please consider supporting my arty friends!! they need some help and they're excellent at what they do!  
> brook's [tictail](http://peachygem.tictail.com), her art is super cute and she is selling stickers!  
> kylen is taking [commissions](http://kyllu.tumblr.com/post/145991315729/hi-please-commission-me), her art is also very good!!  
> I have received hisoka art from both of them and i love it, A+ 10/10 do recommend
> 
> i'm sorry in advance for this shit chapter

When Gon woke, it was with Hisoka’s face entirely too close to his.

He jerked back, hastily tugging the blankets up to shield his very clothed body, unsure whether to be scared or angry.

“Did you know that you have a rather small mole above your left eyebrow?” Hisoka asked, completely out of the blue.

“Er, yeah.” Killua pointed it out once. Gon’s brows furrowed. “Why were you watching me sleep?”

“I find it enlightening sometimes,” Hisoka said, and refused to elaborate further.

Gon no longer felt safe going to sleep, to be honest.

“You move quite a lot, too,” the magician added. “It’s almost fascinating to watch.”

Gon scowled at him. “That’s weird,” he accused flatly.

Hisoka elected not to comment. “The buffet is open for breakfast,” he announced instead, deftly changing the subject, his hands on his knees as he bent down to peer at Gon with an exaggerated grin.

Predictably, Gon conveniently forgot about Hisoka’s trespass of his personal space at the mention of food. His stomach almost immediately began to rumble, and he ducked out from underneath Hisoka’s close gaze so that he could sit up and pull on his boots.

“I thought that might interest you,” Hisoka remarked, pleased as punch with himself for his perfect judgment of Gon’s character.

Gon overlooked his remark. “Let’s go!” he crowed, his eyes gleaming with the idea of a huge and rich meal.

* * *

 

The mess hall had been stocked full with breakfast items far richer than Gon was used to, ranging from flavored muffins and sugary pastries to thick-cut breads and gamey meats. He couldn’t even name most of the foods; all he knew is that they looked interesting. He ate as much as he could, of course - which ended up being not nearly as much as he would have liked before he began to feel sick. He was a child raised on lighter breakfasts of berries, porridge, and fish; he supposed, mournfully, that there was only so much that he could handle.

Back in the cabin room, and working himself out of his food stupor, Gon glanced over at Hisoka.

The magician hadn’t eaten anything at all - he hadn’t even given the food a second look. Gon wouldn’t be particularly surprised to learn that he only ate one large meal every few days and abstained for the rest of them. Like a snake.

Gon sat cross-legged on his bed, having attempted to meditate through the effects of the rich breakfast, but he felt himself growing increasingly restless. His eyes kept drifting to Hisoka, who sat on his own bed opposite of Gon and had been steadily exercising his Ten for most of the morning. The boy felt a strange cocktail of emotions as he witnessed this: on one hand, he was jealous of Hisoka’s ability to use Nen, and resentful of his tendency to flaunt it; on the other, the notion of Hisoka actually meditating to strengthen his control of his Nen was one that hadn’t occurred to Gon before.

He had just never imagined Hisoka needing to do something so… ordinary. Perfunctory.

There were times when Gon barely thought he was human.

Gon pushed himself upright, chewing on his lip. “Hisoka,” he finally prompted, breaking the comfortable silence in the room, grasping the bedsheets in his fists as he anticipated what he would say next.

Hisoka reacted lethargically, opening his eyes just enough so that they were hooded slits, not even bothering to move his head as his golden gaze slid to meet Gon’s. Gon squirmed a bit, which made Hisoka’s eyes crinkle almost imperceptibly at the corners.

The boy eventually realized that Hisoka wasn’t going to be saying anything in response. His tongue felt heavy. “I’d…” Gon stumbled over his words, wanting to say too much and yet still trying to decide on what exactly it was that he wanted to say. His mouth thinned. “I’d like you to use your Hatsu to reinitiate me,” he said eventually, and his voice was strong.

“Oh?” Now Hisoka’s interest was really piqued. He unfurled his legs so that he could face Gon properly, a curious smile dancing on his lips. “I thought you said you’d tried that already.”

“Not with you.” Any uncertainty that had lingered in Gon’s eyes had crystallized; he’d already made up his mind. He’d tried with what seemed like every Nen user that came through Whale Island - Hisoka was different from them. Compared to his raw energy, they had all been weak and inexperienced. Perhaps Gon should trust in Hisoka - at least, when it came to this.

“Gon, you flatter me!” Hisoka exclaimed, pretending to be charmed even as he was already standing from his place on the bed. “Look, I think I’m blushing.”

Gon didn’t bother looking. He stood as well, fists clenched. “Will you?” he pressed, ever persistent.

Hisoka tapped his chin thoughtfully, eyeing Gon up and down. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he relented sweetly. His earrings jangled as his power expanded rapidly outward, and immediately the air in the small room was denser.

Gon could see Hisoka’s aura, shimmering a light pink and flowing around the magician’s body with a kind of controlled and foreboding majesty that Gon himself had never possessed. A longing and an almost desperation welled up inside of him.

Hisoka had made his Nen visible only for Gon’s sake. He preened under the weight of Gon’s attentiveness. “Isn’t my Bungee Gum so lovely?” teased Hisoka, stretching his Nen between his spidery fingers.

“I guess,” Gon answered doubtfully, trying not to get too impatient, lest the mercurial man decided to change his mind. “Can we please just…”

“Turn around, Gon,” Hisoka finally ordered, suddenly focused, eyes sharp. “There are more nodes towards the back than the front.” He held his hands outstretched, his aura thick as it coursed around his hands.

The boy didn’t acquiesce immediately. “But then you’ll just look at my butt,” he pointed out bluntly, having far too much first-hand experience with the magician’s… proclivities.

Hisoka didn’t deny it. “I’m afraid it’d be worse for you if you faced me,” he said, amused. “After all, seeing the determination in those eyes - it might just be enough to tip me over the edge, and then you’d get hurt. We don’t want that, do we?”

His voice was a bit too sultry for Gon’s taste, and he grimaced. “Alright, I get it,” he muttered, and turned his back to Hisoka. A ripple of discomfort flared at the base of his spine, and he flexed his fingers instinctively.

“Hatsu,” he heard Hisoka whisper for his benefit, and he steeled himself, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation.

There was a gentle swell in the air behind him, and his hair stirred a bit from the pressure of it before he was hit with the crest of the wave like a physical blow. He gasped, just managing to catch himself before he fell to his knees, his body bowing underneath the intensity of Hisoka’s continued aura flow. His nerves prickled, starting with his most distal appendages and moving inwards; it was followed closely by a hot pain that surged through his limbs as Hisoka refused to relent. This didn’t at all feel like Wing’s initiation. It was difficult to tell which direction was up. Gon’s breaths came shallowly.

“H-Hisoka…”

The flow of Hatsu stopped abruptly, and gradually Gon regained control of his body. He dropped to the floor, momentarily convulsing in a half-hearted dry heave. He lifted a hand to inspect it. His fingers we shaking, but there was otherwise no sign of forcibly opened nodes. There was similarly no sensation of Nen anywhere from his body.

He was as devoid of aura as he had been since it first left.

His face crumpled.

“Gon,” Hisoka started, stepping closer behind him.

“I’m fine,” Gon snapped angrily, standing up and brushing himself off. He avoided Hisoka’s gaze. “Do it again.”

Hisoka tutted, eyeing Gon up and down. “As much as I love seeing that face, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said regretfully. “You’d only hurt yourself that way.”

“Hisoka -”

“No, Gon,” said Hisoka, more emphatically. “What good would it do either of us to stunt the growth of such a promising fruit?” He shook his head, watching Gon calm himself.

Gon sat heavily at the edge of his bed, suddenly exhausted from exertion. “I… I guess you’re right.”

That didn’t stop him from continuing his vain attempts at reaching for the Nen that was no longer there.

* * *

 

Hisoka continued to observe him for a long while, just hovering over Gon as if it were the most normal thing to do, and Gon felt the uncomfortable heaviness of his scrutiny. He looked up to meet the magician’s gleaming yellow eyes when he heard the familiar flutter of cards being shuffled rapidly by skilled fingers. The man was smiling crookedly, his face bright with an idea. That never boded well.

Gon hesitated. “Hisoka…?”

“Gon, you are endlessly fascinating,” he said, like it had just occurred to him. There was a flicker, and a card that had been in his hand swiftly found its way to Gon’s cheek, biting.

Gon froze, and his heart stuttered. His mind was effectively blank. Was this Hisoka realizing that Gon was a lost cause? Had it been confirmed for him as he watched Gon struggle with meditating for the past few hours?

The card dug in a little farther, and Gon’s eyes snapped shut.

“Tell me about that night,” Hisoka demanded, edging closer, bending so that they were eye-to-eye.

The white static in his mind settled into a confused murmur as Gon cracked his eyes open again to look at Hisoka uncertainly.

“The night you lost your Nen,” Hisoka clarified, somehow achieving the only expression that conveyed both curiosity and murderous intent that Gon had ever seen. “Tell me,” he cajoled, drawing out his syllables.

Gon glanced warily down at the card nipping at his skin, then pushed Hisoka’s hand away, feeling somewhat more confident that he wasn’t about to die. The first twinges of crossness manifested. “Relax,” said Gon, and shifted so that he had a bit more breathing room. “I would have told you if you had just asked, you know,” he said, reasonably enough to make Hisoka retreat a few inches.

He stretched out his legs, staring down at the floor, weighing his words. He didn’t feel comfortable baring his open heart before a predator like Hisoka, who would only pounce on the wounds for his own benefit. But Gon grudgingly admitted to himself that the man who had elected to help deserved to at least know the basics behind why Gon was the way he was.

Why he was so effectively broken.

For once, Hisoka seemed content to just allow Gon to talk. The boy appreciated it, even though Hisoka was certainly not doing it out of benevolence.

“There was a person,” Gon started uncertainly. “Someone I had come to consider… a good friend. Family. He was killed by one of the Chimera Ants in NGL, but it was my fault he died.” Gon shook his head. “I’d never felt like that before. So guilty and angry and scared. There was so much…” He gestured uselessly. “Everything. And all that had mattered was that I made that Ant pay for what they did to K… my friend.”

Hisoka looked more and more delighted by Gon’s words with each passing second, the cards flipping through his fingers faster than they ever had before in his excitement. “You felt bloodlust for the first time,” suggested Hisoka, absolutely titillated by the notion. “My, my, Gon… What I wouldn’t give to have seen your glory…”

“It wasn’t glorious,” Gon argued, frowning. “And don’t get any ideas, either. I’ve learned from my mistakes in NGL. If you try to hurt any of my friends to try and get at me, I’ll kill you. I’d kill you before you even got to lay a finger on them.”

“Mmm,” Hisoka groaned, “and what a way to go that would be.”

“It’s not glorious,” Gon repeated, stubborn.

“Yes, of course,” Hisoka assured him flippantly.

Gon looked unconvinced. “Either way, fat load of good it did me,” he said, continuing his story. He quieted. “I broke my covenant, in the end.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned,” Hisoka said, not unkindly.

“I told it I was willing to die.”

He’d mentioned that before too, which the magician was about to point out, but something about Gon’s expression gave him pause.

“It listens, you know, the Nen - and I was going to die.” Gon’s chin wobbled. “But I didn’t want to. I wanted to live. In that moment I wanted nothing more than to live.” His fists tightened at his sides and he blinked rapidly in a desperate attempt to reign the tears in. “My Nen - it listened, and I stayed alive, but…” He wiped angrily at an eye, blinking furiously. “I’ll never have that power again.”

“Not with that attitude,” Hisoka said reproachfully.

This made Gon stop. “What?”

“You broke your covenant,” the man said, “but a strong sense of self-preservations also strengthens Nen. Your resolve only proves to me that it is quite possible for you to recover it. It’s not an uncommon case.” He paused. “Probably.”

“ _Probably_?”

“As I told you before, there is always a loophole when it comes to Nen. There’s always a way. Don’t you trust me?”

“No,” Gon replied flatly.

Hisoka chuckled throatily. “Good boy,” he praised, and tousled Gon’s hair. “But trust me in this - if not for my altruism, then trust in my selfishness. I did promise you a fight to the death, after all.”

Gon felt compelled to believe him.

“And what of your friends?” Hisoka asked, before Gon could make the mistake of actually deciding to trust him.

“What about them?”

“They left you in your hour of need. How unlike the friends you speak of so highly.”

“They didn't _leave_ -”

“Why would they leave you behind, if they were your friends? You needed them, didn't you?” he prodded. Hisoka didn’t actually care much about the answer. That was the nature, he knew, of people - to use and use, and then toss you away once you were deemed to be no longer useful. One minute treasure, and the next, trash. It was an ideology with which he was intimately familiar. It was the thing that people always cited when they accused him of being fickle - and he was fickle, to be sure, but what many people failed - or didn’t want - to understand was that all humans, to some degree, held the same fickleness inside of them.

“They don’t need me anymore,” Gon answered, looking away.

Hisoka nodded sagely. Such was the nature of the beast.

“What they needed was to move on,” Gon continued, solemn, not noticing Hisoka’s reactions. “Without my Nen, I’d only hold them back, and they can’t afford to wait for me.” He clenched his fists. “As their friend, it’s my duty to get my Nen back as quickly as possible so that I can rejoin them. It’s the least they’d expect from me.”

Hisoka was somewhat taken aback. “They left you because they no longer had any use for you,” he pointed out. “You’d still remain loyal to them?”

“Of course,” Gon immediately replied, not missing a beat. “They’re my friends. They’d never give up on me. I need to prove that I haven’t given up on them!” He bowed his head. “Even though… Even though I’m not Killua’s best friend, because he loves someone else more…” When he looked back up at Hisoka, his eyes were misty, but his expression was fiery. “I’d still do anything for him! I’m going to prove that I can stay by his side, by all their sides! I’m not going to give up!”

Hisoka felt short of breath. That look… He hadn’t seen it in so long. “You’re adorable,” he said appreciatively, his lips tugging upwards into a smirk. He gracefully ignored Gon's glare.

* * *

\“By the way,” Hisoka said, some point after watching Gon scarf down an incredible three platters of dinner. They stood together, leaned up against the railing of the starboard bow, watching the last light of the sun transform into dark skies and stars. “If I’m not mistaken, your friend Leorio has taken up residence in Yorknew, under a shiny new medical license. Why have you not contacted him for assistance with your Nen, if you care about it that much?” The _Andromedus_ lurched, as if to emphasize his point.

Gon choked on his own saliva. “He’s busy,” he insisted. “I couldn’t bother him like that. He’s a real doctor now - he doesn’t have time to train me.” He toed the ground, anxious to stop talking about it.

“We should pay him a visit,” Hisoka said thoughtfully. “I do wonder how much that fruit has ripened…”

“I don’t know where he lives,” Gon admitted. “Besides, I doubt he’d want to see you.”

Hisoka tried not to be hurt by Gon’s bluntness, and failed just a little bit.

“Anyway,” Gon hedged, abruptly changing the subject. “I’ve seen the Yorknew underground. What do you even plan to do there?”

The magician resisted the urge to inquire as to when Gon became an expert at shady urban dealings. “As I said,” Hisoka explained, “I have a few contacts. There might some interesting artifacts, too. You never know.” He glanced at Gon calculatingly. “I do hope you enjoyed the auction house the first time you were there, Gon,” he remarked. “I have a feeling we’ll be back.”

Gon frowned. “I didn’t think about it much before,” he said, “but what if some of the Phantom Troupe is in Yorknew? They’ll kill you.”

“Your worry is gratifying, Gon,” Hisoka said, patting the boy’s head and ignoring his vexed expression. “But I really do hope they would try. It’d be so much easier than trying to hunt them all down.”

Good point.

“What kind of people are these… contacts?” Gon asked.

“Masters of Nen in their own way. Some of them are excellent resources for international information. Covert information, for the right price.”

Gon couldn’t help but be curious as to why Hisoka kept a series of contacts in the first place, but perhaps it would be better if he didn’t ask. He’d see them for himself soon enough, anyhow.

Hisoka climbed up onto the railing so that he could sit crisscross, ignoring the alarmed expressions of nearby passengers. He tried balancing a new card tower on his knees, and was impressively successful until his cards were caught in an updraft of buffeting wind. He pouted. Gon relocated his attention to the horizon.

There seemed to be less stars in the sky than there had been the night before - a promising sign of nearby light pollution. Birds circled overhead in tight flocks.

“Western lonstiles,” Gon identified, catching Hisoka’s drifting attention. “Those birds. We must be nearing land soon.”

The magician regarded him appraisingly, the ghost of a smile hovering on his lips. It made him look kind of regal, in this light, Gon realized. “You’re so resourceful, Gon,” Hisoka lauded, and Gon hated the quick burst of pride that bloomed in response. “We should be landing by tomorrow morning. Make sure you’re prepared.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wtf is this chapter haha
> 
> I was considering making Hisoka a total asshole, but he _is_ canonically more concerned about Gon's safety than Ging is, so
> 
> psa a western lonstile isn't a real thing
> 
> if you're interested, come visit me over on [my blog](http://dirigibleballoon.tumblr.com)


	6. Damage x Reunion x Courage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha woah an update  
> if you're still with me thank you so much  
> this chapter made me happy

“Land ho!”

Bells all across the ship tolled and clambered, forcibly waking all the grumbling passengers that had been unlucky enough to still be sleeping.

Gon had been awake since dawn. At the lookout’s call, he stood from his perilous perch at the top of the highest mast, excitedly scanning the horizon and drinking in the fast-approaching cityscape of Yorknew.

“Hey, Hisoka!” he called down to the lower level of the mizzen mast.

The magician didn’t bother answering. His eyebrows were raised in amusement as he watched the crowd of passengers milling about the deck, hanging on to the rope and netting of the sails to keep himself upright. Some people shot him and Gon nervous looks as they passed underneath, shuffling uncertainly past them before returning to their personal business. People congregated at the front of the ship, anticipating the release of the ramp upon docking at bustling Yorknew Harbor. The _Andromedus_ slowed its pace until it heaved to a stop, blowing its foghorns as the ship dropped anchor. Hisoka leapt from his place on the mast to the tops of the cabins, then swung from there to the railings, using his Bungee Gum to catch hold of them and steady himself as he practically flew above the rest of the crowd.

Gon followed closely behind, jumping down to the deck to fight against the slow-moving throng, weaving between the numerous legs and suitcases. He tightened the straps of his backpack so that it hugged more closely to his body. He escaped down the ramp ahead of the crowd the instant it was lowered enough that he could vault the remaining gap between the ship and the worn wooden dock.

Ignoring the protests and cries of outrage from the other passengers, Hisoka hurdled over their heads with another impressively athletic leap, landing soft and feline on his feet in front of Gon.

Gon looked nonplussed by his stunts. The boy stretched, working out his muscles and getting used to the transition back to land. “Lead the way,” he told Hisoka expectantly, glancing back at the mob of people currently attempting to leave the ship and suffering a pile-up on the ramp.

Hisoka followed his gaze and was more than happy to leave the hordes behind. “I have a place in mind,” he remarked once they’d started walking.

Dock crews and deckhands milled about; the unintelligible clamor of the harbor was occasionally punctuated with harks from the merchants that frequented the busy docks and took advantage of tourists.

Hisoka turned to find Gon missing from his side. “Come on, Gon,” he had to coax when he found the boy distracted by one of the vendors selling trinkets.

Gon stuffed his hands into his shorts pockets. “Coming!” he called, flash-stepping back to where the magician waited patiently for his charge. “Where are we going?” Gon asked as they neared the city entrance.

Hisoka smiled down at him, eyes crinkled. “It’s a _secret_ ,” he said in a hushed voice. “You’ll like it though. You’ll see.”

Gon glanced at him doubtfully, but plodded along beside him with no further questions. The city approached and gradually swallowed them up, the buildings growing tighter and taller at every few meters. The skyscrapers blocked out the bright morning sun, but what the city lost in natural temperatures, it gained back in generated heat from the urban goings-on: packs of people passing back and forth, factories, automobiles. The streets were just as dirty as Hisoka recalled, but Gon seemed unbothered. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the city scene, looking to and fro with a giant grin, as if he were just seeing Yorknew for the first time. Every time he happened across a neat building or another street vendor, Gon’s mouth widened in an “oh!” of awe.

Hisoka wasn’t sure, exactly, what Gon saw in the city that made it so remarkable to the boy; though perhaps his own judgment was a tad clouded. He wasn’t particularly fond of people or filth, and this city had an interesting mix of both of them.

But this was the city that also had the most interesting underground networks. A necessary evil, he thought.

Gon sometimes had to jog to keep up with Hisoka’s long strides as they made their way down the hustling roads, but even still, he was practically vibrating in his badly-contained enthusiasm for being off of the boat.

It was contagious, whatever it was that fueled Gon. Hisoka’s steps felt just a bit lighter as he watched him bounce on the balls of his feet.

“I remember first coming here with Killua,” Gon commented offhandedly, shrugging his backpack higher on his shoulders as he lengthened his own strides to better match Hisoka. “I don’t recognize this place, but it feels the same. Everything is so…” He struggled to find the right word. “I don’t know. Alive. Even the buildings.”

“I suppose,” Hisoka relented. He didn’t see it that way - but then again, it didn’t help that his usual Yorknew haunts consisted of an abandoned fairground and a musty cave.

“I liked being with Killua better, though,” Gon continued bluntly.

“You wound me, Gon,” said Hisoka, dramatic to the end. He feigned being stabbed in the heart. “How cruel of you.” He hadn’t expected any less from Gon, really, but it still stung kind of maybe a little bit.

Gon gave a surprised laugh. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Hisoka,” he said, so sincerely that it actually made Hisoka straighten in bewilderment. “It’s just that Killua is my friend, so of course I’d like his company more. You and I aren’t friends yet, so it’s not the same!”

He’d always warned himself that Gon was nothing if not a constant source of astonishment and spontaneity. Hisoka blinked dumbly. “Er,” he said eloquently. “I was kidding, Gon.” The boy acted like friendship was a viable outcome of this mess. How silly.

How hopeful.

As if someone as sunny as Gon would - could - ever be _friends_ with someone like Hisoka. They were meant to use each other, that’s all.

“Oh look, I do believe this is our street,” Hisoka said aloud, before Gon could reply.

He turned them down what really would have been more apt to be labeled an alley, just beyond the discount drugstore and at the corner of a nameless, ramshackle restaurant. The apartments that lined this road were rundown and small; this area was obviously a lower-income neighborhood, humble down to its roots. The street was almost entirely devoid of people; the majority of the people on the main road walked right past this place, as if it didn’t even exist. It was impossible not to feel at least partially removed from reality here.

A rusted, broken sign told the two travelers that this particular group of apartments was named _Eden at Luxury Gardens_.

Such a pretty name, Hisoka thought approvingly.

He watched Gon investigate his surroundings, looking undeterred by his decrepit environment and every bit as curious as he was before. “See?” Gon said eventually, stopping to point to a patch of overgrown brush. “So alive, even in unusual places.” Hisoka followed the line of Gon’s index finger to see the family of large lizards that had taken shelter in the brush, curled up with one another between bits of industrial-grade wood and stone.

“Right you are again,” said Hisoka lightly, still distracted by Gon’s earlier words. “Shall we get going?”

“Yeah.” Gon jogged to match Hisoka’s pace again.

It was another few minutes until they happened across the building that Hisoka had been searching for. He stopped in front of it, eyeing it narrowly - but everything he saw confirmed to him that he was in the right place.

Such excellent tracking skills I have, he thought pleasantly. He motioned for Gon to follow him up the stairs, but once they reached the second floor, Hisoka turned to the boy, pretending to be very serious. “I need you to stay here for now,” he said soberly. “I’ll let you know when can come near. Understand?”

“Yeah, sure,” Gon conceded, with some caution. It was adorable.

“Good. This will only take a minute.” Hisoka went traipsing down the hall, picking out door number 264, safely out of Gon’s earshot.

He rapped his knuckles against the shabby wooden door a few times, and then a few more thirty seconds later, just to annoy the occupant.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” came the grumble from inside, and a short time later the door squealed pitifully on its hinges as it swung inward. “What do you n- oh, _hell_ no.”

“Hello, doctor,” Hisoka purred, leaning up against Leorio’s doorframe, his eyes half-lidded. “I’ve been feeling absolutely horrid lately…. Do you take walk-ins? I’m afraid this simply can’t wait...”

Leorio was steadily turning an attractive shade of furious puce. “Appointments only, clown!” he shouted, hackles raised and glasses beginning to slip down his nose. “Now get off my doorstep!” He moved to slam the door in Hisoka’s amused face, but the magician stopped its momentum with a casual outstretched hand, pushing effortlessly back against Leorio’s full weight. “Hey-!” Leorio sputtered indignantly, but Hisoka cut him off.

“Now, now, you haven’t even heard me out yet! It’s an emergency,” he emphasized, eyebrows raised and eyes slanted in his mirth at Leorio’s fruitless attempts.

“I’ll _make_ it an emergency if you don’t leave me the fuck alone,” Leorio growled, not about to have any of it, still vainly pushing his door against Hisoka’s hand.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Hisoka coaxed. “I have something that you might like.”

“What could you possibly have that I’d want?” Leorio demanded, eyeing the magician with narrow suspicion.

Hisoka didn’t answer, already gesturing to Gon down the hall, who had been standing on his tip-toes and peering around to try and catch a glimpse of the person Hisoka had been conversing with. He was beside Hisoka in a flash, a question written on his face for a split second until he and Leorio caught each other’s gaze.

“Gon?” Leorio’s voice was filled with bemused hope.

“Leorio!”

The man flung his door open as Gon launched himself forward, just in time to meet each other in the middle. Leorio caught him and spun him around, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes; Gon laughed, and he glowed brighter than the sun, brighter than anything Hisoka had ever seen before.

It was all Hisoka could do to look on, his back to the doorframe, clearly entertained but also trying to avoid being blinded.

“Gon, what are you doing here?” Leorio was asking, still holding on to the boy, his hair looking ruffled. He shook his head before Gon could answer. “Nevermind, we’ll talk about it inside,” he gushed, already ushering Gon into his apartment.

Leorio looked up at Hisoka, assessing the magician with narrow, suspicious eyes for several long seconds while Hisoka pretended to pick at his nails nonchalantly.

“You can come in too, I guess,” Leorio finally relented begrudgingly, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, and Hisoka tried not to grin too widely as he brushed past Leorio to enter the small abode.

* * *

 

“Your Nen, huh?” Glass clunked dully on wood as Leorio placed a cup of water beside Gon, on the heavy coffee table. He seated himself close to the boy, clutching his own glass. “I see.”

Hisoka was seated on the narrow windowsill in the corner, as far away from the two friends as he could get in the tight quarters of Leorio’s humble home. He watched them casually, his right arm slung over his leg, absentmindedly shuffling his cards in a single hand.

Leorio made very certain that he looked Gon in the eyes, head tilted so that he could gaze over the rim of his glasses. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Leorio asked, tone serious.

Gon laughed nervously, and scratched at the back of his head. “It-it wasn’t your problem,” he explained. “And I thought I’d have it back by now!”

Leorio looked troubled. He threw his head back, chugged the rest of his water, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Gon,” he said. “Please tell me these things, okay?” He drew Gon close, enveloping him in a tangle of lanky arms, and after a startled moment, Gon relaxed into his embrace. “I’m just so glad that you’re okay,” Leorio cried. “But this is important too!”

Gon gripped Leorio’s broad shoulders tightly, feeling his composure slip. Hisoka looked on, wordless. “Okay,” Gon eventually agreed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re so busy -”

“I’m never too busy to help you, Gon!” Leorio exclaimed, releasing the boy and sitting ramrod straight. “Well. If only I knew how I _could_ help you…” He scratched his chin. “But I’m sure we can figure it out together! It might take some time, but we’ll get your Nen back!” He sat back, his hands on his knees, looking pleased. “In the meantime, you can stay here with me! It’s not much, but… I’m glad you’re here!”

Gon glanced around again, focusing on exactly where _here_ was. “Oh! I almost forgot to ask! Why are you staying at a place like this? I thought you wanted some place nice!”

“Oh, this old place?” Leorio followed Gon’s curious gaze. “It’s not so bad. I guess… I’m just not used to spending a lot of money, even if I can! Besides,” he added soberly, “living cheaply means I have more money to spend on schooling and the future treatment center.”

Gon’s eyes shone with admiration. “You’ve really come a long way, Leorio,” he said reverently.

Leorio grinned, and scratched the back of his neck in almost the exact same way that Gon did. “Well, I’ve had a lot of help to get where I am now,” he admitted humbly. “But I’m hoping to truly stand on my own two feet from here on out. The new methods I developed for examinations are just the first step!” he finished more grandly, and pumped his fist in excitement.

“Whaa? Leorio, you’ve even made new Nen techniques?" Gon jumped up. "You’re so cool! Let me see!”

“Yes, do show, Leorio,” Hisoka piped up from the corner, now thoroughly fixated on the medical student. His tongue caressed his top lip.

Leorio whirled, hackles immediately raised. “Why are you still here?” he demanded. “Get the hell out of my apartment!”

“You must have misunderstood,” Hisoka said coolly. “Where Gon goes, I go, and where I go, Gon goes. Isn’t that right, Gon?” He looked at Gon with an exaggerated wink.

Leorio whipped around to eyeball Gon in bemusement. Gon looked at his hands. “He’s helping me get my Nen back,” he explained almost bashfully. “We have an agreement.”

Leorio pinched the bridge of his nose, shoving his other hand into his pants pocket. “You’re telling me that _this pervert_ -” He stabbed a finger in Hisoka’s general direction - “is actually accompanying you everywhere you go? Hisoka is your _travel buddy_?”

“Well,” Gon said, under duress from the intense gazes from both men in the room. “Yeah.”

“Damn it,” Leorio swore, and shot Hisoka an icy glare. “Somehow I knew taking that deal was a bad idea.”

“What deal?” Gon asked.

“With the Zodiacs. They’ve asked - no, more like ordered - me to accompany them on the Dark Continent Expedition. Rearranged my schooling and everything. I nearly forgot that I’m supposed to head east in a couple of days. They complied with my one demand, so I didn’t think much of it, but… I’m sorry, Gon. It should be me traveling with you, not… _him._ ”

“How rude,” Hisoka remarked, looking miffed.

“Shut your filthy clown mouth,” Leorio said.

“It’s alright Leorio, really. They must really need you on that expedition! It’s more important that you go. I’ll be fine,” Gon assured him, feeling slightly overwhelmed by Leorio’s conviction. He said, “That’s funny though. Ging never told me that you were going.”

“Ms. Cheadle only told me yesterday,” Leorio answered. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright? I should cancel,” he said anyway, before Gon could even say anything.

“No, Leorio, I’m okay! Thank you - but Hisoka and I really do have an agreement.”

The man grumbled about it some more, but he acquiesced. “Call me as often as you can,” he told Gon sternly. “And _you_ ,” he snarled at Hisoka, “if you so much as lay a _finger_ on Gon, I’ll come back and hunt you down myself, understand?”

“Oh, perfectly,” Hisoka said, absolutely delighted. “I always did love that temper of yours.” He clapped his hands together to interrupt the red rising in Leorio’s cheeks. “In any case, I do believe you promised us a show, Leorio,” he encouraged. “Go on then, let’s -”

“What was your demand, Leorio?” Gon interjected, speaking over Hisoka after spending a moment in thought. Hisoka stopped, feeling offended at the interruption.

Leorio was almost immediately demure, his attention effectively taken from Hisoka. “Oh, that. I requested that Kurapika come along too. I’d finally managed to get ahold of him.”

Gon’s grin was brilliant and blinding. “I’m so happy that he’s okay,” he said earnestly. “That means it’s even more important that you go on the expedition! You’ve gotta take care of him!”

Leorio flushed and scratched the back of his neck again. “Yeah, I’m glad too. I mean, he and I are going to have _some words_ about leaving everyone in the dark like that, but… I think it’ll work out okay. I’ll make sure he gives you a call, too. I think he owes you that much.”

Gon looked like he was going to say something to that, but his eyes flickered to Hisoka, and he closed his mouth again. Hisoka’s interest was piqued. “I’d like to hear from him,” said Gon instead, to Hisoka's disappointment.

This was beginning to bore him. Hisoka flicked a wad of Bungee Gum at Leorio’s face and tugged it, making the man stumble. He looked at Hisoka’s passively innocent face furiously. “Enough with the sap,” the magician whined childishly, and tugged the Bungee Gum harder before releasing it. “Show me your Nen!”

“Yeah, I’ll show it to you alright,” Leorio muttered darkly, rolling up his sleeves.

Hisoka rolled his eyes, sitting back comfortably. “ _Finally_ , that’s all I - _ghkk_!”

His head snapped to the side from the force of Leorio’s punch, which had been warped through the couch to nail him squarely in the face. Already his cheek was sore and swollen. Leorio shook out his hand and leveled his breathing, looking satisfied in his ability to make the magician shut up. Hisoka gingerly touched the point of impact. Then he prodded it from the inside with his tongue, making pain crackle like white lights across his vision again.

“Haaaaaah,” he exhaled blissfully, his head hitting the glass of the window, eyes fluttering closed. “How _lovely_ ,” he moaned. “Such improvement - such potential!”

“You’re sick.” Leorio covered Gon’s face to block out Hisoka’s histrionic displays, though the boy was impressively unperturbed.

Instead, Gon’s eyes were saucers as he gazed up at Leorio in blatant adoration. “You’re so cool, Leorio!”

His back straightened as he considered Gon’s words. “It still needs work, but it’s not bad,” Leorio said humbly. “And I call this one ‘Ultrasound.’ It helps me find things noninvasively. It’s going to revolutionize the medical world!” He sent a few pulses through the coffee table to demonstrate how it worked, then touched Gon’s forearm to transmit a few pulses through the boy’s body.

Gon laughed delightedly. “It tickles!” he exclaimed. He sobered. “You’re going to be a great doctor, Leorio. I believe in you.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” He tousled Gon’s hair, then kept a hand on his shoulder, very aware of Hisoka’s slanted but observant attentions. Hisoka felt a stirring of… _something_ … deep in his gut. He didn’t much care to identify it. “I guess us staying together just isn’t meant to be,” Leorio admitted. “But at least let me treat you to lunch. Don’t worry about money; I’ve got it covered!” He smiled and threw Gon a signature thumbs-up.

On cue, Gon’s stomach made itself well-known. “Oh yeah,” he commented, “we haven’t gotten anything to eat yet!” He blanched. “Hungryyy….”

Hisoka lifted himself up and made to follow them out the door.

“Not you,” Leorio snapped immediately, shooting daggers at the magician. “If you’re coming along then you’re paying for yourself, you perv.”

“I see.” Hisoka pouted, which earned him a less-than-sympathetic look from Leorio and a rather unimpressed look from Gon. “Very well. I’m afraid I have some errands to run, though, so I shan’t be joining you two for your lunch date. How very unfortunate.”

“Where are you going?” Gon asked, cognizant enough to be curious.

Hisoka pretended he didn’t hear him. He flash-stepped to the door and held it open for his fruits like the utmost gentleman he was, privately celebrating Gon’s polite “thank you.”

“I will see you again soon,” he promised them cheerily. Leorio grumbled. “Ciao, Gon,” Hisoka said, with a jaunty little wave, and just like that he was gone.

“Creep,” Leorio grunted, locking his stubborn door.

By the time he turned back to Gon, he was all smiles again. With a grandiose sweep, he lifted a laughing Gon onto his shoulders, and they were both hit with a sweet, hazy wave of nostalgia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leorio speaks for all of us  
> can we please let this man raise his child


	7. Decision x Honesty x Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> leorio and gon have a nice father-son chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you forgot that leorio is a gigantic nerd
> 
> this one is kind of short but we are moving right along!
> 
> thank you so much for keeping with this story! we've just breached 1100 hits and 100 kudos, and I could not be more honored, thank you you guys

The clatter of dishes and silverware melted into the dull chatter of the city that served as white noise. The sound of Gon’s fork hitting his plate was a universal constant for the span of five minutes, followed by the slurping up of his milkshake at inhuman speeds. Leorio matched his formidable pace, and both of them pushed their empty plates and glasses aside at them same time, then leaned back in their chairs with a satisfied “aaahh” in tandem.

Other customers at the cafe shot them shifty glances. On the other side, the hostess looked vaguely impressed.

“Thank you for the lunch,” Gon chimed dutifully, sitting up in his chair again.

Leorio half-opened a single eye, very much content to continue laying splayed out in his chair. “It was nothing,” he said dismissively, flapping a hand.

Gon poked at his own cheek for a while, having so many things to say to Leorio and yet unable to articulate exactly what they were. “Ah,” he said, when he finally thought of something. “You said you were working with the Zodiacs now.” His expression was strained as he fought to recall what it was Ging had said, the last time they spoke. “I think Ging told me that you’re… Boar, right? That’s what he was.”

“Yeah, they had me take his place.” Leorio’s lips tugged downward. “Although, I’m not really used to thinking of myself that way… It’s strange. I still don’t really know what all being a Zodiac even _means_.”

“Hmm,” Gon hummed austerely, cogs almost visibly turning in his head. He couldn’t find an answer to that. “I wonder who they’ll pick to replace Mister Pariston.”

“Oh!” Leorio leaned forward. “I almost forgot! Kurapika is Rat now!”

“Really? Both of you are Zodiacs now?” Gon was beyond elated for his friends’ success; all he could respond with was an awestruck “Wow…”

“That’s weird to think about, too.”

Gon’s face lit up. “Are you excited to see Kurapika again?” He rocked himself back and forth.

Leorio startled at the question. “Yeah, of course,” he said, scratching at his temple. “It’s been too long.” His eyes were distant.

“Ah! There it is again!” Gon exclaimed suddenly, pointing at Leorio.

“What?! What?!”

“You’re blushing!”

“A-am not!” Leorio asserted, tugging desperately at his collar as his face did nothing but heat up further.

Gon sat back on his haunches, pleased, watching Leorio slyly. “You blushed when you mentioned him before, too.”

“Did not!” Leorio scrambled to stand, fanning himself to more quickly rid himself of his pink complexion.

“Did too!”

“Sh-shut up!”

“Leorio,” Gon pressed, suddenly much more serious. “Do you love Kurapika?”

The man had a hard time loosening his collar any more than he already had. “Way to lay it on thick, kid,” he said, eyes darting, swallowing harshly. He was now redder than the lobsters Gon and Mito would cook sometimes.

“You always get this _look_. Even when we were all together,” Gon said reflectively.

“Wh-what look?”

“I don’t know. A look.”

“Was I so transparent..?” Leorio asked weakly, more to himself, sitting down again before his knees wobbled too much.

“Well? Do you?” Gon inquired relentlessly.

“I… I don’t know,” Leorio confessed, defeated, hiding his face.

Gon thought about that for a second. He was fairly certain that Kurapika was the person that Leorio loved most in the world, just like how Killua was the person that Gon loved the most.

But nothing needed to be said about it just yet.

“That’s okay,” he said decisively. Then he left it at that, perfectly content to move on while Leorio stewed in his thoughts and his bright flush.

* * *

 

Gon fished around his abandoned milkshake glass for the candy-red maraschino. He split the cherry between his teeth and thought of Hisoka.

“I wonder what Hisoka’s doing,” he wondered aloud.

“Up to no good, if I had to take a guess,” Leorio said darkly. He lifted his head from his hands, successfully preoccupied from his thoughts by the mere notion of the magician. “Shady bastard.” He readjusted his glasses, glad for Gon’s willingness to lay the previous discussion to rest. He’d probably forget about the entire conversation in a few hours. “Maybe he’s off creeping on some other little kid or licking other people’s possessions or something. Whatever it is that he finds _entertaining_.”

Gon just nodded agreeably, unfazed by the idea of Hisoka doing shady things. “He’s probably checking out the underground network, or whatever it was,” he said freely.

“Of course,” said Leorio derisively. “Well, fine. Leave him to it. That means he’s on the opposite side of the city, near the auction house, and not bothering us.”

“Hmm?” This caught Gon’s attention. “What do you know about the underground, Leorio?”

The man stiffened, eyes flitting to and fro. “O-oh, uh, you know, the usual…” He trailed off, muttering under his breath and scratching at the back of his neck.

“What was that?”

“I get my medical textbooks off the black market,” he ground out. “Wh-what?!” he burst defensively, even though Gon’s gaze was far from judgmental. “Once cheap, always cheap! Textbooks are stupidly expensive!” he insisted, pointing upwards as he justified himself.

Gon only nodded. “That makes sense,” he said reasonably.

“Of course it does!”

“Hisoka said there were a lot of useful things that are sold on the black market, and a bunch of knowledgeable people in the underground! We’re going to see if anyone can help me.”

That made Leorio halt his tirade. “Listen, Gon,” the man eventually managed. “The underground is no place for kids like you. It’s too dangerous.” A pang of guilt struck him as he watched Gon’s face fall, just fractionally. “Hisoka doesn’t need to involve you in that,” he continued anyway, still insistent. “Even if you are a Hunter.”

“A Hunter.”

“I mean it, Gon.”

“Yeah.”

There was a long pause. “Oh hey, check this out!” Leorio blurted, eager to change the subject as another thought occurred to him, and stood to root around in his suit pocket. “I finally registered my Hunter classification,” Leorio announced proudly, stabbing his Hunter license at Gon and pointing out the neatly printed title below his name. “I’m a Medical Hunter! I search for new and better ways to provide healthcare to all!”

“Wow, Leorio! That’s so impressive!” Gon praised, genuinely impressed by everything his friend had accomplished. “So that’s like how Kurapika is a Blacklist Hunter?”

“Yeah - first rule of being a Hunter! Every Hunter must hunt something.” Leorio wagged a finger to emphasize his point.

“You have to?” Gon looked troubled, pressing a finger to his cheek. “But I don’t know what I’d want to hunt,” he said plainly. “I just wanted to meet my dad, but now I’ve already done that…”

“It’s okay, Gon,” Leorio assured him, “you don’t need to have it all figured out right now.” He thought about it. “But it’d be good to keep in mind, for when you do register your classification.”

Gon turned this over pensively. His Hunter classification probably didn’t matter much anymore, anyway - he was hardly a proper Hunter, without his Nen. He might as well register as a Nen Hunter.

Arbitrary.

He speculated as to what Hisoka’s classification could be, although nothing particularly came to mind. Maybe Hisoka didn’t have one, either. Maybe they could be classless together.

He wondered about Killua.

“It doesn’t really matter, Gon, it’s more like a courtesy,” Leorio said hastily, to prevent steam from erupting out of Gon’s ears with how hard he was thinking.

Two young boys ran past, chasing each other and laughing excitedly. Gon watched them go, distracted, lips partially slack as he observed without truly seeing. Something deep and nameless ached in his chest as they disappeared down the street - just specks that were barely visible amid the countless other bodies and the blazing midday sun. Every jagged fray on his sleeves looked like lightning.

“What’s wrong, Gon?” Leorio asked, catching Gon’s moment of vulnerability.

“Being here makes me think of Killua,” said Gon honestly. He rubbed at his arms to ward off the sudden, unwarranted chill that prickled along his skin. “I like it here, but I hope we leave soon. I don’t want to think about how much I miss him.” He looked down at his own palm, as if something between the lines and creases could solve his problems. “It hurts, sometimes,” he finally admitted, voice hushed.

Silence spread over them for several moments. “Wherever he is,” said Leorio, “I know Killua feels the same.”

Gon couldn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah.”

Did he really, though? Would Killua really miss Gon - useless, powerless Gon - when he had the person he loved most in the world instead? Probably not.

Gon’s fists tightened with his resolve. “I’m going to get it back. No question. No matter what.” Even if that meant going underground.

Leorio frowned, worried, wary of Gon’s colorful history of recklessness. “Will you be okay out there, Gon? Without Nen?”

“Of course,” said Gon mildly. “I was before, right?”

“Well.” He scratched at his temple. “I guess. But it’s… different now. It’s so much more dangerous.” There were all sorts of bad seeds that’d love to see Gon dead.

Gon was all too aware. “A risk I’ll have to take,” he said. “This is important.”

The man sighed. “Yeah.”

“I’ll be with Hisoka. It’s the best option I’ve got.”

Leorio wrinkled his nose, looking disgusted. “Traveling with that clown garbage must be awful,” he said to Gon. “I don’t really _have_ to go on this expedition. I'd be happy to take you in. You know that.”

Gon looked away. “I know. But I think it's better this way. The expedition needs you. With him, I know there's always an incentive to keep going.” He hesitated. “And… it's really not so bad. You know, traveling,” he explained at Leorio’s bemused expression. “It can be difficult, but he can be nice.”

“When he wants to be, because he's manipulating you,” Leorio pointed out.

“Maybe,” Gon conceded with a small shrug. “I've believed in other people for less. A part of me… wants to believe in him too. I think…. I think he's just not used to having a friend, you know?”

“Not having a friend - Gon, are you listening to yourself?” Leorio spluttered. “This guy is a psychopath! He's as crazy as they come! His entire motivation is that he wants to fight you to the death. Is that - does that sound like a good basis for friendship to you?”

“Since I have to spend a lot of time with him, it's better to try to be friends than not, right?” Gon pointed out.

Leorio seemed to struggle with this concept. “I guess,” he yielded, not looking any less disgruntled. He shuttered. “I can’t imagine being _friends_ with that slimy bastard, though,” he said forcefully. “If he - if he _looks_ at you wrong - which he’s done before - I’m coming for him. Just… keep me updated, please?” He tugged at his collar. “Kurapika’s put me through enough stress already.”

Gon huffed out a chuckle through his nose and looked down at his lap with a thoughtful smile. “You’re too good to me, Leorio,” he said brightly. “I promise.” He looked back up to Leorio, grinning widely. “Let’s make a pinky swear on it!” He extended his littlest finger.

Leorio only needed to consider it for a second before he hooked his finger around Gon’s, holding tight.

“I promise to stay in contact with you, and take care of myself,” Gon said solemnly. “Say you promise to take care of yourself and Kurapika.”

“I promise to take care of myself and Kurapika,” Leorio complied.

“Whoever breaks their promise has to swallow a thousand needles,” Gon sing-songed, ignoring Leorio’s sudden surprised horror at the thought of swallowing needles. “Sealed with a kiss!” He pressed their thumbs together with an expression of intense concentration. “ _Chuuu_ ~”

The man’s smile was soft as he watched Gon. It felt like they had never truly left each other’s company at all - as if, somehow, Gon was still the same boy he was before. He wasn’t, of course. His shorts were getting a bit shorter, and his arms were thicker, and there was a sadness deep in his amber eyes that hadn’t been there prior to the… whole incident. There was a rigidness to his posture and a furrow in his brow that told the story of a boy forced to grow up far, far too abruptly.

“Leorio,” Gon said, contemplative as he disentangled his finger from their physical pact. “I feel like I have to believe in Hisoka.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“He’s a horrible person,” Gon admitted freely. “But if I don’t believe in him, who will?” He paused. “We’ve all done horrible things, after all.” Then he amended, “Except you, Leorio! But we all knew you were always the best of us.”

Leorio didn’t answer. He felt tears pricking at his eyes, and he pushed his glasses up higher to conceal the evidence.

“So I’m going to believe in Hisoka,” Gon continued, implacable. “It’s okay if you don’t, because you just have to believe in me! Okay?” His sunny, encouraging smile had returned.

Leorio sniffed, wiped his face on his sleeve, and stood so that he could sweep Gon up into his most fatherly embrace. He loved this child so much. It was something he had realized long ago. “I’ll believe in you,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor dadorio. so much emotional stress in one day  
> he's my favorite, can you tell


	8. Spider x Yorknew x Underground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> canon what??
> 
> a bit of Hisoka's story, a bit of worldbuilding, a bit of Hisoka being a massive edgelord and getting fukn owned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! for mention of child sexual abuse and prostitution/sex trafficking

Meanwhile…

It was the middle of the day, and yet somehow it never seemed like the light of the sun fully reached the inner city. This was especially true of the old industrial district, which was still covered in layers of ancient coal dust and the remains of gray brick walls. Figures dressed in somber colors milled about restlessly here and there, never stopping to conduct anything other than their direct business. The broken, cobbled streets were quiet. This was a place forgotten by most - which made it an exceptional place for less-than-savory trades. When people did happen to meet, it was less with words and more with constantly roving eyes, covert signals that would mean nothing to a mere passerby.

The real market was overseen inside the abandoned buildings, making use of the decrepit surroundings to hide the generations of gangs, mobs, and shady dealings. This was where people of all types and statuses could find an ‘associate’ willing to take care of any and all work that edged out of the circle of legality. Depending on the job and its current demand, prices were generally negotiated by the barons that represented each “executive” group.

Those that frequented the world’s black markets knew to keep to the shadows.

Except Hisoka, of course.

This type of run-down, nebulous borough was exactly what he had grown up in. Neighborhoods and spare living accommodations had a habit of cropping up around the markets, which drew in all the sorts that were rejected by regular society as distasteful. There was nothing more familiar to him than the gloomy street corners, the payments that came in either cash or blood, the prostitutes that congregated at congested cross-roads. For all its fragile appearances, in this world it was often kill or be killed. Power was the only guarantor of survival here.

There was a time when Hisoka would have stayed with the shadows. There was a time when he had cowered just like every other unfortunate child born to the underground.

He’d had enough filth for a lifetime, thank you very much. All the ostentatious colors and flamboyant outfits and bright makeups in the world couldn’t obscure the dirt he occasionally still felt beneath his clawed nails, beneath his painted mask.

Places like this continued to function through an ongoing cycle of despondence. Young children owned only their ratty, sack-cloth robes and the skin that clung to their wire frames. As they grew older they became an ugly nuisance, and those that failed to fit into a niche were culled to save resources. By that point, they oftentimes no longer owned even themselves.

Hisoka had especially been a scrawny ugly nuisance, particularly because he was always being shooed from one doorstep or alleyway or another, which was why it was imperative for him to learn his tricks of the trade. He’d been left for dead one too many times. He was lucky to have been so good at hiding.

Upon his escape, he recalled, he’d scrubbed and scraped his skin raw, as if the scar tissue could make him anew; gazing out across the impurity of the Yorknew slum, he began to feel the itch fester beneath his skin again.

From his perch on the crumbling rooftops, he stuck out like a sore thumb, obvious and unwelcome. His trademark colors were stark against the ashen ecosystem, candy pink and cherry red and bright white, and he earned just as many glances of distaste as he did astonishment, because these were colors that many of the people here had forgotten to exist. It was exactly why he had vowed never to be so drab again. Colors were the antithesis of the slums he wished he could purge from his memory.

His eyes alighted on the prostitutes that milled about the street corners and lurked in alleyways, the overlooked and faithless waifs that attempted to entice travelers and earn themselves a living. In a place like this, they were barely considered human. Younger children clung to some of them and huddled together as the more experienced ones taught them their way of life - their rarely broken caste that they had been subjected to by the cruel sense of humor of some higher power.

Hisoka knew.

Among their number, on the street closest to Hisoka and who had yet to notice him, was a frail young boy, his sharp cheekbones pronounced by the grace of malnourishment, his eyes wide and sunken but not yet dull. Small bruises peppered his arm with more color than he had probably seen anywhere else in his life; the boy prodded at them with a detached interest before his attention was captured by a passing merchant, and he preened and stretched out his willowy body in an effort to be chosen for the chance to feed himself.

This was Hisoka, once, perhaps. He couldn’t remember if he had ever looked so desperate. He didn’t want to. He kept walking, his steps careful along the crest of the roofs.

There was another child down a nearby side street, hair tousled and dark, eyes flat and dead. They bowed beneath the caress of a customer, robotic and unfeeling; their face was compliant and vulnerable from having spent too long here, and it was this that drew people to them like mosquitoes, like death. Kids like that wore the crooked hands of preying men more than they wore their own clothes.

They tended to get killed often. Hisoka’s seen it.

A playing card sang as it sailed through the air, its graceful arc ending when it sliced through the neck of the man who touched and crooned to the child like he owned them. Scarlet flecks sprayed across the child’s face and exposed chest, and their only reaction was to cling even more fiercely to the meager coin they had earned off of the man, their face still blank, immobile. Blood gargled from the man’s throat as he slid to the ground and tried to scream, and then the body was still.

In these alleys, blood was freedom. It was a lesson that Hisoka had learned on his own long ago.

The child - more of a teen, really, though it was difficult to be sure - took a few moments to gather themself, curling back into themself and crouching to search the dead man’s pockets for any more money. Finding very little, they clutched what they had to their dirty chest, and Hisoka found it to be such a pitiful and meaningless existence that he tossed another card, quick and sharp, and watched the tiny body crumple.

Sometimes blood was freedom from yourself.

Hisoka called it mercy. He retrieved his cards and licked away the dark viscous blood, feeling a tremulous little shiver snake down his spine at the coppery tang. He inhaled the scent of death, delicious still despite - or perhaps because of - the cramped back alley, and moved on.

* * *

 

He easily jumped down to the cobbled streets, movements fluid, causing the people around him to scatter, startled. A few cards flicked idly between his fingers as he strode down the stretch of road that remained between him and his target: the largest building still standing from the old industrial district. It was an ancient paper factory, an aged and crippled thing now haunted by black market peddlers, intelligence agents, and mercenaries for hire.

As the heavy, rusted doors squealed plaintively against his push, he was immediately greeted by a thick and musty wind that belched out from within the rotten gut of the factory, and his face twisted dramatically from the assault on his delicate senses. Figures peered at him from the shadows, having set up shop along the main corridor and around the large dead machines that were scattered about the place. Homeless citizens kept to the corners, silent and watchful.

“Interested in some books salvaged from Vesh Atel, sir?” harked a merchant, and was soon joined in by others. “Nen-imbued artifacts? The sharpest of knives?”

Hisoka ignored them, continuing on to the center of the factory, where he knew he was likely to find the more reticent businesspeople that he was interested in.

At the hub, inhabitants had built a crude fireplace to gather around. It was more like an overly large campfire, with a pot of boiling _something_ suspended over it. It was enclosed by rows of roughly-hewn tables and chairs that were obviously crafted from junk that had been left behind by the geriatric paper factory. The chairs were all filled with the stinking, hulking bodies of mercenaries and fugitives that argued and jeered with each other over tables covered in games and gambling pieces.

In the gloom that wavered at the edges of the firelight, there lurked several more taciturn individuals, speaking in hushed voices. A few were experienced Nen users, and had created a sound barrier of Nen with an advanced form of Ryu. Hisoka drifted, his eyes roving. People quieted as he approached, eyeing his outfit, but soon enough simply shrugged and carried on once he had passed. Now and then he would spy the distinctive markings on people’s wrists - most of the people here bore the red arrow tattoo that designated them as being under the command of the local boss.

Eventually he spotted the contact he’d hoped to spot, drinking alone and typing furiously on his phone.

“Fancy seeing _you_ here,” Hisoka purred as he sidled up to the man. “It’s been far too long, Howe.”

Howe gave a tremendous sigh, finishing his typing before looking up. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, so dark that they looked more like ink smudges; it made him look ghoulish, or at the very best, like he had perpetual black eyes. His suit was too large for his slight body, and terribly dirty; likewise, his shoes were scuffed and layered with mud. He was bald, which only added to the illusion of undeath. “I don’t remember your name,” he said, put-upon, “but I remember that I don’t like you. What do you want?”

Hisoka took a moment to be horribly offended, lips pursed as he visibly judged Howe’s fashion sense. He deserved to be miffed. “How rude of you to say that,” he said. “We’ve known each other for at least four years.”

“Probably more like two. And I didn’t consent to any of it. Now spit it out or beat it.”

“My name is Hisoka,” he reminded Howe dramatically, with a proud hand on his chest. “You might know me for my _Bungee Gum_ -”

“Don't launch into that shit again. I don’t care. I’m busy. I don’t even know how you found me here.”

The man had a lot of nerve, for being Nenless. But Hisoka couldn’t deny that he was drawn to Howe’s skill as an intelligence agent. Moreover he inadvertently admitted to remembering him, which was a victory for the magician. Hisoka chewed at his thumb, licked it, and said, “Where’s Red?”

This made Howe glance at him with a new clarity. “Why do you want to know?”

“Business.”

“Yeah, well, everything with her is business. Get in line.”

“What’s the price to jump the line?”

“More than you’re worth, probably,” Howe said, unconvinced.

“Look,” said Hisoka, starting to feel impatient. “I just need some information. Nothing more.” He reached behind Howe’s ear and pretended to pull out the five 100-Jenny gold coins that he now held between his fingers. “Does that help?”

Scowling, Howe snatched the money from his fingers and stuffed it in his grubby pockets. “You’re lucky she’s in town today,” he said, as if it were Hisoka’s fault that she usually wasn’t. “She’s in the tavern. Make it quick.”

“Was that so hard?” Hisoka singsonged, patting Howe’s face.

* * *

 

He had just left Howe in the shadows of the hub when the hairs at his nape stood on end, goosebumps trickling down his back and arms. A strong aura prodded at him with clinical interest - and he recognized its particular pungency, deliciously memorable; his tongue flicked out to trace his upper lip at the feeling.

“You shouldn’t be here,” a small voice told him stonily.

He twisted. “Well, well,” he said, intrigued, bending at the waist to peer at his challenger. “My _dear_ Number 4. _However_ can I help you?”

Kalluto Zoldyck stared at him, expressionless. “You shouldn’t be in Yorknew,” they reiterated.

“And why’s that?” Hisoka humored them, eyes crinkled in amusement.

“The Troupe still has a base here. If you don’t leave, we will kill you.”

“Is that a promise? Because I so wish you would try, it’ll make my job so much easier,” Hisoka said breezily.

Kalluto’s eyes were flinty. “Yes. You did not exactly leave a good impression.”

Hisoka’s grin spread. “Hmm. Then why don’t you attack me right now? Don’t you want to?”

Their face barely even twitched. “No. I don’t want to fight you if I don’t have to. But this is a first and final warning. Is that clear?”

“Oh, perfectly.” He patted them on the head fondly until their brows furrowed in annoyance. “I’m glad. It’d be a shame to kill you so soon. What a waste that’d be,” he said sadly as he considered it. He straightened and clicked his tongue. “Though, I might just stay an extra day in Yorknew, after all, just to see you in action. It’s certainly a tempting offer. What do you think of that?”

“I don’t care,” answered Kalluto blandly. “Just consider yourself warned.”

With that, in true Zoldyck fashion, they melted back into the shadows, ending the conversation on their own terms now that their personal mission was fulfilled.

Hisoka licked his lips again, releasing the breath and pent-up aura that he hadn’t even been cognizant of holding. His Nen stirred around him, tinged black in places where it had been stained by leaking bloodlust, and it took quite a bit of self-control to keep the stain from fully enveloping him. He bit at a nail and continued on.

* * *

 

The tavern was windowless and dimly lit, with tight dusty corners and old, heavy wood furnishings. A spider hung above the door, entangling the countless flies that swarmed about. The low, secretive chatter that had hummed around the room died down the instant Hisoka entered; the much more plainly-dressed patrons shot him furtive glances, but must have found something suitably dangerous in his expression that they left him alone.

He slid into a bar stool, deliberately not looking at the figure seated next to him while he gestured to the haggard bartender.

“How much do you know about the nuances of Nen?” he asked once the bartender had wordlessly slid him a glass of rum.

Red stirred, glancing over at him from beneath her hood and covertly pocketing the disposable phone she had been texting on. “Hisoka,” she said by way of greeting, as if his name was something especially bitter. “Explain what you mean.”

Hisoka felt himself smile thinly. He’d forgotten that it was often Red who made the demands. He took a swig of his alcohol, fighting down a cringe at the watery swill. “Anything you know about Nen recovery.”

She looked him up and down with a curled lip. “You’re unfortunately still looking well. Why does this matter?”

He shuddered when she broke her Zetsu for just a second, and he felt the dark pulse of her aura - not quite a threat. “Do you care?” he countered.

Her expression was calculating. “No, I do not,” she finally affirmed, and threw back her head to finish what was in her glass. “You know that information will cost you,” she said levelly.

“Certainly,” he said, flippant, and with a graceful flick of his wrist he presented a large pouch full of jangling gold Jenny and dropped it on the wooden bar before her, not giving her any time to name a price. He plastered a smile to his face as she examined his offering, using her Analyze Composition ability to determine just how valuable he was.

“Fine,” she conceded. “But I’m going to need another drink first.”

“Allow me,” he said sweetly, with another gesture to the bartender.

Red didn’t bother to thank him. Instead she took a large gulp, adjusted her hood, and then commenced staring pensively into the amber liquid that remained in her glass. “Nen recovery,” she remarked. “I’ve heard of it. For multiple reasons.” She dipped a calloused finger into her drink and then tapped the rim. “Taking Nen back from an imbued artifact, for example. Or removing Nen from an area after the user’s death.”

“I’m sure you’ve encountered people who have broken their vows,” Hisoka remarked casually.

Her eyes were piercing when she looked at him. “Yes,” she said carefully. “And yet, I have met none who have regained those abilities. It simply means that they were too weak of mind to have had power in the first place.”

Hisoka paused, swirling his drink around. Normally, he would enthusiastically agree with her - but this was Gon. “Come now,” he said. “Surely, you have more than that to offer a _dear old friend_.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated, before something visibly occurred to her. “You know,” she said thoughtfully. “You may be interested in Nen Reuptake.”

“Oh?”

“There is so much more to Nen than so many people realize. I have a contact who… knows a thing or two about environmental Nen. He specializes in… Well, let’s just say he’s perfecting the art of reclaiming lost Nen.”

It was the most he had ever heard her say at once, but he was distracted by what she had shared. “...Lost Nen?”

“Nen flows through everything, you know. Nen is the aura of the world, residing in each living thing - there are a select few who learn to manipulate their own through intense mental training.” She ran her finger along the rim in consecutive circles. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of Nen becoming more potent after death.”

“Of course.”

“Residual Nen lingers in corpses for perhaps a day.” Red tilted her head to meet his rapt gaze. “It can be harvested.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah what that's crazy
> 
> I didn't intend to show so much of Hisoka's past so early but it fit  
> I really do love writing from his perspective. He's so dramatic
> 
> feel free to ask me to elaborate on Hisoka's backstory


	9. Sightseeing x Auction x Spiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leorio and Hisoka get a little time, and worldbuilding is difficult

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....I CAN EXPLAIN.. OTL  
>  but we're all hxh fans here so a few month hiatus is nothing.. right..
> 
> a huge thanks to the people that have continued to support me regardless of my spontaneous posting.
> 
> in other news I was looking over my fic outline and... this story is going to be a bit longer than I initially estimated. by the time we resolve the big overall plotline, I'll probably be up around 30 chapters.... so judging from my progress thus far I'll be spending several years on this fic lol  
> but at least I still update more often than togashi
> 
> also gon's BIRTHDAY was yesterday???? happy birthday my boy, here's the biggest chapter thus far as a gift

The tracks clattered beneath the metal train car, the sound ricocheting along the sides and sending vibrations up through his feet. It was a consistent rhythm, almost like a heartbeat rattling in his chest.

  
There were eyes on him in the crowded car; his nape prickled with the awareness of being watched, but he ignored it easily. Instead he focused on the single card that fluttered thoughtfully between his fingers: thicker than a playing card, crimson, imprinted only on one side with a series of numbers and a name reading “Yama” in black pen. He’d watched Red scrawl the information on the card not an hour before.

  
“My contact,” she’d said, by way of explanation.

 

“Not his real name, I presume?” he drawled, running a finger over the lettering.

 

“Real enough.”

  
Here he’d paused, taken a swig of his watered-down whiskey, and asked, “How does it work? Nen reuptake,” he clarified.

  
The response was preceded by a lengthy silence. “I do not know much,” Red told him. “Before the aura of the dead returns to the earth, there is a period where the energy leaks from the body and flows around it... in the way that it might in a person that holds no control. But the energy release is greater here because it is no longer necessary for keeping alive. You understand? The energy belongs to no one. This man -” she tapped the card in his hand, eyes intense - “has claimed to have found a way to take it.”

  
“Then why haven’t I heard of this before?” Hisoka pressed.

  
“I imagine,” she’d said, drawing back into herself, “that it is quite difficult.” She finished her second drink. “But it is the only real lead you have got, yes?”

  
He’d left it at that.

  
Now he was lost in thought as the train’s heartbeat shuttered on. He continued to stare down at the name, pressing a nail into the thick cardstock until it left a little crescent. The gears had already begun to turn behind golden eyes, his mind so preoccupied that he didn’t even bother to reaffix a strand of red hair that had fallen out of place.

  
The specifics of taking this… _lost Nen_ continued to escape him - which was at once vexing and fascinating. It was difficult to see how someone who was not a Manipulator or a Specialist could manage to take the Nen belonging to another.

  
This, of course, did not mean it was impossible - he himself had told Gon that Nen always had loopholes, and if the trick was to steal from the newly deceased, well. That would hardly be an issue.

  
The thought made the corners of his lips curl upward, and he felt a few prying gazes flicker away from him.

* * *

 

After a few minutes, he pulled himself from his reverie and looked out at the urban landscape. He watched the wood and stone structures steadily morph into crowded concrete towers as the train plodded on, bathed in the bright orange of the late afternoon sun.

  
Most York New trains ran underground, but there were no subway systems operating west of the auction house; to the common public, there was nothing worthwhile in the west - which was just as well, because the mafia bosses were staunchly territorial, and preferred that the old industrial district remain largely inaccessible. No one - or nearly no one - on this train was a civilian; the closest things to them were the people that acted as runners for the mafia.

  
Turning away from the train window and gazing across the car, Hisoka made eye contact with one of them. A newbie, if the way the man swallowed and looked away quickly was anything to go by. The runner unconsciously brought a hand to his abdomen, and Hisoka tracked the movement; too late, the man realized his mistake, fixed his jacket, and nervously, almost pleadingly, his eyes flickered back up to meet Hisoka’s. It was inevitable that the few others on the train near them began to take notice; for just a moment, the man’s defensive Ten flared.

  
Once he’d had the runner’s attention, the magician only licked his lips and winked. It would have been so laughably easy to kill him and take whatever valuable thing was stashed away in his body - in fact, it probably would be fun to make the entire train into a bloodbath, and he briefly entertained the idea. But he had taken notice of the red arrow tattooed on the man’s wrist, and he preferred not to ruin the already threadbare rapport he had with that particular boss and her agents. Especially since he would be taking the subway to the auction house later that evening.

  
“There are some very valuable artifacts being kept at the auction house,” Red had told him, before he’d taken his leave. “The house only holds an auction a few times a year… And you are in luck, it seems. Tonight just so happens to be the second biggest auction of the year.” Her eyes pierced him for a long moment. “I still do not know how you continue to be so lucky.”

  
“My irresistible charm,” Hisoka had said, wide-eyed, as if it were obvious, and struck a pose that made Red glare at him before he sobered again. “What’s being sold?”

  
“I do not have the specifics,” Red replied, which was definitely a lie, but he hadn’t bothered to press her. He would find out soon enough for himself.

  
He whistled nonchalantly, drawing attention to himself on the train, then deftly ignored the look of gratitude from Red’s new runner.

* * *

 

The apartment was dark - the sky outside was dusky, and the vestigial glow of the set sun illuminated the room only in muted grays. There was a great clamor at the front door as Leorio wrestled the key into the rusty old lock; eventually there was a heavy clack, and the door squealed as it swung open.

  
“Urgh,” Leorio grunted as he pulled, with some effort, the key back out and stashed it in his pocket. “There we are.”

  
Hisoka slid down from his perch on the small kitchen counter and strode out of the shadows to meet them, tossing the remains of his apple into the trash as he passed. “Well, it’s about time you two got back,” he said, then licked the juice from his fingers.

  
Leorio _screamed_ , flailing his arms as he reared back defensively. “Hisoka!” he hissed, after a heartbeat.

  
“Hi, Hisoka!” Gon greeted cheerily, ducking underneath Leorio’s raised arms and waving at the magician. “Leorio took me around the city today. He showed me where the new clinic will be and everything!”

  
“Hello, Gon,” Hisoka replied warmly. “Did he now? Sounds lovely.”

  
“It was, until you showed up again,” Leorio interjected, peeved. “Why are you still _here_? In _my_ apartment!” Gon looked back and forth between them.

  
“I could have gone with you two instead,” suggested Hisoka sweetly. Then his face fell back into the carefully - dangerously - neutral. “Gon and I have a _deal_ , remember?”

  
“Too well,” the other man muttered. “And no thanks.” He flicked the lights on; a series of naked bulbs shuttered and buzzed overhead before they finally flared to life. He shot Hisoka a sideways look, then sighed, and said, “You two can only stay for another day.”

  
“Kicking us out so soon?” Hisoka pouted.

  
“I have… places I need to be.”

  
“You said you didn’t have to leave for another two days.”

 

  
“I have things to get in order before heading out.”

  
“ _Secret_ things?”

  
“Leorio and Kurapika are Zodiacs!” Gon cut in excitedly, waving his arms, having spent too long sitting silently.

  
Hisoka focused all his attention on Leorio, who had since decided that looking at the wall behind the magician was far more interesting than meeting his gaze. “Oh?” Hisoka prompted him, eyes practically glowing. Kurapika too? “You’d neglected to tell us _that_.” Only that he would be accompanying them.

  
Leorio crossed his arms and looked obstinate. “Kurapika and I had been invited to replace Ging and Pariston on the panel of Zodiacs. We accepted. Now we’re assigned to the Dark Continent mission. That’s all there is to it.” He pushed his glasses farther up his nose.

  
Well now. The Zodiacs had left an impression on Hisoka, and were certainly a step up for Leorio. Having… _acquaintances_ among the Zodiacs gave Hisoka a new opportunity to find challenging opponents, especially as he’d forfeited his first one once he’d left Zaban City.

  
Ging Freecs interested him in particular.

  
More than that, he estimated that Leorio and Kurapika would both, in short enough time, grow more powerful than most of the Zodiacs. There’s no way Hisoka didn’t benefit from this development.

  
His smile curled, and he hooded his lids as he let his eyes rove over Leorio approvingly. “You really _are_ ripening quite nicely, aren’t you, doctor?” he purred throatily, and licked his lips.

  
“Don’t do that,” Leorio said flatly.

  
Hisoka only chuckled, his tongue lingering mid-lick on his top lip, and was only interrupted from giving a reply by Gon, who still looked excited.

  
“That’s what I told him,” he said to Hisoka, nodding. “I mean, you know, not like that, but that he was getting a lot better!”

  
The magician took it as a personal victory when Leorio turned to stare at Gon in disbelief.

* * *

 

“Anyway,” Gon continued, unperturbed by either of their behaviors. “Did you find anything interesting, Hisoka?” His eyes bore into the magician’s, fiery and hopeful and so very Gon that for a moment, Hisoka could almost forget that he no longer counted as a full-fledged Hunter. Behind him, the sky visible through the window was nearly completely dark, save for the lights of the city, beaming broadly and reflecting off of the clouds.

  
“Something like that,” he answered vaguely, voice light. Carefully, he watched Gon’s face fall just a tad, and quickly added, “An acquaintance gave me a lead. It will... take some work to acquire it, though.”

  
Gon’s brows furrowed. “Anything,” he swore, with that expression that made Hisoka’s eyes crinkle at the corners. He had no idea how charming he was.

  
“I know, Gon.”

  
“What _kind_ of lead?” Leorio demanded.

  
“Nothing too dangerous,” Hisoka lied placatingly. “I’m offended that you would even _entertain_ the idea of me putting Gon into danger.”

  
“Yeah, I couldn’t ever imagine you doing that,” Leorio countered, glaring at the magician. Hisoka smiled innocently, reaching to brush past where the red card was hidden in his pocket, before busying his fingers with his deck.

  
“Do you think it’ll work?” Gon suddenly asked, his one-track mind still focused on the former topic. His gaze slid to the floor, and his fists were clenched. “Even if it’s dangerous… do you think I have a chance?”

  
It was the best option Hisoka had right now. He didn’t vocalize that. “Of course I do, Gon,” he said.

  
“But what is it?” Leorio pressed.

  
“...I’m not quite sure,” Hisoka said, which wasn’t exactly a lie, then held up his hand to halt the man before he could begin his outraged tirade. “Understand that I was only given a lead.”

  
“Then how can you say it won’t be dangerous for Gon?!”

  
“Leorio,” Gon interjected, determination still blazing in his eyes. “I believe Hisoka.”

  
The man spluttered for a moment, but something unspoken passed between the two; whatever it was made Leorio deflate. “You’d end up going anyway,” he finally said. “Fine.”

  
Hisoka felt more intrigued than victorious.

  
“Thanks, Leorio.” Gon unclenched his fist and looked down at his open palm. “Even if Hisoka was hiding something, I don’t have anything else to go on.” Leorio’s eyes slid to the magician, as if trying to convey something as wordlessly as he had with Gon - but Hisoka only blinked. Leorio scowled at him.

Gon yawned abruptly, sagging a bit on the back of Leorio’s couch and immediately drawing the attention of the other two.

“You should get to bed,” Leorio told him, and the way he spoke and reached for Gon’s shoulders was distinctively paternal. Seeing it, Hisoka wouldn’t exactly say he felt something, but it certainly wasn’t _nothing_ , so he considered it ignored. He retreated a step and leaned against the counter. “You can have my bed,” Leorio was saying.

  
“I couldn’t, it’s your bed,” Gon protested, somewhat sleepily, as if his earlier fire had sapped the rest of his strength.

  
“It’s fine, I can sleep on the couch for a night or two. Really, take the bed, Gon, I don’t mind.”

  
“Well…” The boy scratched at his cheek. “I mean, it’s big enough for two, right? I’m pretty small, so I don’t think it’ll matter much.”

  
Leorio pushed his glasses up higher on his nose, hiding his eyes. “If you want to. Of course,” he said sincerely, and took a moment to look Gon over before standing tall and telling him, “You go and get ready, then. Don’t wait up for me.”

  
“You’re coming, though?” Gon looked between him and Hisoka, clearly wary of leaving them alone together. His eyes lingered on Hisoka. As if Hisoka would do anything to the man - in this dingy apartment, of all places.

  
“Later,” Leorio assured him. “Go on.”

  
Gon went, navigating his way easily, as Leorio’s bedroom and adjoining bathroom were through the only other door in the apartment. Hisoka had taken the liberty of giving himself a little tour of the place before the others had returned.

  
Once he was gone, Leorio gave one furtive glance around and stalked over to Hisoka, brows furrowed. “Did you _actually_ find something?” he demanded, grabbing hold of Hisoka’s forearm. The magician felt a lewd joke prickling on the tip of his tongue, but the subject of the conversation made him abstain. “Or were you just lying to him?”

  
“I’ve never lied to Gon,” Hisoka said matter-of-factly. It took him a moment to realize that this was also not a lie. “And in fact,” he continued, because Leorio seemed largely at a loss for words, “I have more than one lead. There are, I’ve been told, a number of _interesting_ items stored at the auction house.” Leorio looked like he’d eaten a lemon. Hisoka estimated that Leorio’s expressiveness alone made up a third of his entertainment value. “There will be an auction tonight, actually.”

  
“Good, it’ll get you out of this house and out of my hair.” Leorio released him, and brushed imaginary lint from the sleeves of his suit jacket.

  
“Hm.” Hisoka’s yellow eyes glinted. “We’ll be paying the house a visit soon.”

  
Leorio blinked. “Hold up - ‘we’?” Ah, he was always so predictable. And fun to tease. He drew himself up to his full height - as tall as, or maybe even a little taller than, Hisoka - and puffed out his chest. “No,” he said, frowning deeply. “No, absolutely not. I refuse. I’m putting my foot _down_. Gon is _not_ going back to that auction house -”

  
“Oh, I perfectly agree,” Hisoka assented mildly, expression pleasant.

  
“- it’s _too dangerous_ \- wait, what?”

  
“I agree with you,” Hisoka reiterated. “Gon isn’t coming with me to the auction tonight.”

  
Leorio deflated with an exhale. “Oh, well, good,” he stumbled. “That’s - huh. Right. He better not be.”

  
Hisoka allowed him a lulling pause before he added, just as pleasantly, “ _You_ are.”

* * *

 

“I can’t believe I got roped into this,” Leorio groused, plucking at the sleeve of his blue jacket, looking more than a little out of place in a sea of black suits.

  
Well. Hisoka supposed that, next to his own candied exterior, Leorio looked practically normal. They made quite the pair - and drew plenty of eyes.

  
“Stop fussing,” the magician chided.

  
“I can’t believe they let you _in_ ,” Leorio went on, ignoring him.

  
Hisoka ran a clawed hand across the embellished white fabric of his top, and made eye contact with a passerby. “I have connections.”

  
“So you keep saying.” Leorio stuffed his hands in his pockets, keeping himself hunched.

  
A bell tone sounded over the intercoms, signaling for the auction-goers to begin taking their seats; anyone that might have slowed their pace to stare at Hisoka now hurried on, eager to situate themselves in the main auditorium. As they followed the crowd, Hisoka could feel Leorio’s aura warp the air around him, left unchecked and gradually swirling with more trepidation than aggravation.

  
Leorio stiffened when Hisoka pressed a warning hand to his back and bent close. “Remember where you are, and reign in your aura,” he murmured dangerously against the shell of the man’s ear. “As much as I love seeing your Nen, you’re making yourself vulnerable, and we can’t afford that right now.”

  
Leorio glared at him as he withdrew, but followed his instruction nonetheless; soon his presence was a dull flicker, not quite in Zetsu.

  
They took their seats near the middle, far enough from the stage to avoid being a target but close enough to gain a good vantage of the items on the block. Hisoka took his card deck from his pocket and shuffled it idly, his eyes on the crowd and on Leorio’s strained face. Leorio was refusing to look at him, his eyes darting around the cavernous gallery as he bounced his leg up and down.

  
Mild irritation began to flicker in Hisoka’s chest. If he was going to be so antsy, Leorio could at least have the decency to pay attention to him. Hisoka paused his shuffling long enough to Bungee Gum Leorio’s feet to the floor.

  
“Wh- _Hisoka_ ,” he seethed, finally looking at the magician with a pinched face, visibly restraining himself from yelling. A vein throbbed at his temple.

  
“Calm down,” Hisoka suggested before Leorio could say any more. “We’re just here on business.”

  
Leorio continued to halfheartedly struggle against the Bungee Gum for a minute or two longer before he eventually stilled, sweat beaded on his forehead. “Fine,” he said, and pushed his glasses higher on his nose. He crossed his arms petulantly.

  
There was a moment where they both just listened to the chatter of the room, which crescendoed as the auctioneers brought out their first piece to begin bidding. It was only a large painting, with nothing special about it besides its artist. Hisoka’s eyes slid back to Leorio, whose antics were always endlessly more entertaining.

  
The man’s eyes glowed dully with Gyo as he observed the Bungee Gum stuck to his feet, his expression somewhere between irritated and thoughtful. “Have you _ever_ considered using this stuff for something other than combat?” Leorio asked. “Besides as an annoyance.”

  
His favorite subject. Graciously overlooking the insult, Hisoka sat up proudly, laying a hand on his heart as he proclaimed, “Bungee Gum, which has the properties of both rubber and gum, has infinitely many uses, my fruit, including getting the upper hand in a fight-” he ticked off each of the many points on long fingers - “but also defense, making my Texture Surprise malleable, climbing, hanging, keeping -”

  
“Okay, listen, I don’t actually care _that_ much,” Leorio interrupted. “But have you ever used it to, you know, patch a wound? Anything like that?”

  
“Of course, I should have known the good doctor would only be interested in my medical merit,” Hisoka mused. “Let’s see. I’ve certainly used it to keep myself in one piece before Machi sewed me back up. It can stick anything together, you know, so flesh is no real problem. I’ve used it along with Texture Surprise to give my skin the appearance of being whole…” He trailed off. Leorio had brought his hand to his chin, deep in thought, no longer listening.

  
Hisoka huffed, and settled into his seat with a new sullenness. Well, fine, Leorio could ignore him if he wanted to. Several more goods came and went from the auction block in the meantime - all Nenless, all uninteresting.

  
“Hisoka,” Leorio finally prompted, after several minutes of reserved contemplation.

  
“Hmm.”

  
“Your Nen _could_ be amazing.” His voice inflected a new revelation, and he continued pulling at the pink Bungee Gum at his feet.

  
The magician scowled, and paused his card shuffling. “‘ _Could_ be’?”

  
“Medically, sure. Just think of the possibilities!” The man’s eyes shone as he waved his arms around, posturing himself like he was about to leap from his chair at any given moment. Too avoid that from happening, Hisoka Bungee Gum'd Leorio's behind to it. “With Bungee Gum and - what was it? - Texture Surprise, you’re wasting your opportunity to be a one-man medical revolution! Needleless sutures! Bandages and casts! Sterile wraps! Reducing mortality risk in surgery! Resuscitation! _Reforming organs_!” A few auction-goers turned around in their seats to shush him. “Shut up, discovering these things is my job!” Leorio shouted, his face beet red.

  
“Well now,” Hisoka preened, “I’m so flattered you’ve given me so much rumination.” He touched a fingertip to his cheek in a semblance of thoughtfulness. “I’d never considered that before.” He had, but perhaps not to such the degree that Leorio emphasized - though besides, when would he ever require the skills of a healer? “What a pity that my craft has… how did you put it? Gone to waste.”

  
Leorio inhaled deeply, letting his flush begin to fade. “I didn’t say it like that,” he said, fists tight. “It’s just… something you should think about. If you ever decide to, you know, stop being a psychopath, the medical field is always hiring. What you have can be something special.”

  
“Leorio, look, you’re making me blush. Is this a proposition? Is there something I can… _do_ for you, doctor?”

  
“Stop, stop!” He grimaced. “I’m just saying, alright. I’m a Medical Hunter, it’s what I do.” He replaced his hand on his chin, quieting again. “Now that I’m thinking about it… As an Emitter, there’s got to be a way I can...”

  
Hisoka watched him for a moment, unblinking. “You have a point,” he allowed, and went back to inspecting the state of his immaculate nails. “Perhaps it would be useful.” He wasn’t so keen on using it for the benefit of others - but for himself, certainly.

  
Leorio wasn’t listening anymore.

  
Hisoka sighed, flicked the gold heart dangling from one of his earrings, and turned his attentions back to the auction at hand.

* * *

 

They were wheeling out a new item. It was a small amulet, strung on a thin gold braid, but a cursory activation of Gyo told Hisoka that it was most definitely a Nen artifact. It was heavy with the aura of a Manipulator - and although he had no idea what it did, Hisoka wanted it.

  
When the auctioneer announced that it was a piece specifically created to store pure aura, it was as good as his.

  
Leorio continued to sit quietly as Hisoka raised the running bid to 4,000 Jenny, but he finally looked up once Hisoka made it 6,000. 8,000.

  
“14,000 Jenny,” the magician told the auctioning aide. Leorio had turned and was well and truly staring at him now, flabbergasted.

  
“ _14,000_?” Leorio croaked. “You have… that kind of money?”

  
“Someone keeps one-upping us,” was all Hisoka had to say about it, his mouth set in a line instead of curling the way it usually did. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the party that kept raising its bid to match his own.

  
“What do you need an _amulet_ like that for, anyway?”

  
“If it can store Nen,” Hisoka answered, too preoccupied to bother with a withering look, “then Gon might be able to draw from it. We shall see. 18,000,” he told the aide, once he was upped again.

  
People around them were murmuring now, eyeing the way the held up the auction with either amusement or vexation.

  
“20,000,” Hisoka said, standing firm. He kept his eyes on the crowd.

  
On the other end of the auditorium, a small group of people stood, also scanning the sea of auction-goers. Ah, so those were his -

  
“Congratulations,” the aide told him, handing him a ticket and breaking his line of sight. “You may pick up your item at the -”

  
“Yes, thank you,” Hisoka interrupted, less than kindly, without even sparing him a glance. The aide moved away.

  
The small party was still searching for the one who had thwarted them their prize - and there was something about the smallest one. Hisoka brought his fingers to his eye, thumb and forefinger curled and a thin, transparent segment of Texture Surprise stretched between them to make a crude spyglass.

  
Well, well.

  
“H-Hisoka?”

  
Leorio had felt it, then - the sudden outward snap of Hisoka’s aura, stained with the slightest leak of bloodlust.

  
“Hisoka, what are you _doing_ -” He followed the magician’s rapt gaze.

  
They’d felt it too. From across the room, almost blended in with the crowd with their matching black suits, the Phantom Troupe made eye contact with Hisoka.

  
The faction that were left behind in York New, anyway: Shalnark, Kortopi, and Kalluto.

  
“Shit,” Leorio hissed, ducking his head down. “Hisoka, let me go, _they’ll kill us_ -”

  
It was the less disciplined Kalluto that reacted most strongly - their aura flared visibly in response to Hisoka’s. Shalnark’s face was largely impassive save for his flinty eyes - and Kortopi... was as unreadable as ever. As to be expected. Shalnark laid a hand on Kalluto’s shoulder to calm them.

  
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Leorio ground out, still attempting to remain out of sight and struggling with renewed vigor against his Bungee Gum bonds.

  
Hisoka smiled, feeling the bloodlust pound in his chest with every throb of his pulse, felt his composure strain at the seams. He waved salaciously.

  
“I hate you so much,” said Leorio. “Before I die, I _really_ need you to know that I hate you with ever fiber of my being.”

  
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Hisoka told him casually, and blew a kiss to Kalluto.

  
Leorio’s eye twitched. “ _I’m_ being -”

  
“They won’t come over here.”

  
As he said this, something whistled through the air: the magician put up a wall of bright pink Bungee Gum just on time to halt the flight path of one of Shalnark’s darts, pointed directly at his neck.

  
“Well that wasn’t very nice,” Hisoka pouted, to no one in particular.

  
Leorio grumbled something unintelligible, then stilled abruptly. “ _They’re coming over here_ ,” he warned, his voice made sharp with fear.

  
So they were. Hisoka felt the heat bloom under his skin, and it spread through him like a flush; faintly, he could see the fluttering bodies of Kalluto’s paper butterflies - not numerous yet, but threatening to be. The idea of facing all three of them was really quite something -

  
...But this was neither the time nor place for such things. There would be better opportunities at some other junction, without a crowd or Leorio’s frantic struggling.

  
“Time to go, methinks,” Hisoka said cheerily, and deactivated his Bungee Gum to free Leorio.

  
Hisoka felt the anger in Leorio’s aura, but the latter managed to say nothing. Leorio threw himself from his seat and they ducked out of the auction room, followed by a wave of murmurs but luckily no trace of the Troupe.

  
“I’m going to retrieve our purchase,” Hisoka told Leorio once they were in the hall.

  
“ _Don’t waste time_ -”

  
“I paid good money for it - and besides, it might help Gon.” Hisoka had already begun walking in the direction of the house’s concierge.

  
Behind him, Leorio gave a long-suffering sigh, and eventually followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...these nerds
> 
> they're always a lot of fun
> 
> as always, thanks for reading, and endless gratitude for your support


	10. Found x Caught Up x Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka gets in a spot of trouble, and our boys flee town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, this is in celebration of the return of the HxH manga HUZZAH
> 
> Anyway sorry guys, I know it's summer but I've been recovering from a surgery and also I'm just a writer with absolutely abysmal discipline. And then the steam summer sale happened, so.. you know...

Once Hisoka had claimed his rightful prize from the concierge, the two of them fled the auction house into the murky dark of the diminutive morning hours. The only things visible were those illuminated by the auction house lights; the mountains in the distance were caliginous. There were cars parked on the side of the road, waiting to take patrons back to the city, agents in black standing by the drivers’ doors. The private train wasn’t to leave the station until well after 4 AM, so Hisoka commissioned a car with a reticent driver, who only looked the magician up and down once before snatching up his Jenny and motioning for them to get into the vehicle.

The ride back was stiff and silent. Leorio kept glancing furtively out the windows for any sign of the Phantom Troupe, and Hisoka watched him from the corner of his eye in amusement. He threaded the chain of the amulet through his fingers, feeling the quiet hum of Nen like a cat’s purr against his own. Up close, he could see that the amulet was a rather plain little thing: soft gold, stamped with a triskelion on a single side, smoothed with age and visually unassuming. If he’d looked at it with only his eyes, he wouldn’t have bothered to covet it; but it pulsed with power.

His skin itched with the need to try it out.

He held it in his open palm, letting his aura wash over it in a form of Shu, eyeing the crests of the white waves and the way it settled into the grooves of the triskelion. Like the tug of strings tied to his fingers, he could feel the way the amulet pulled at his aura, sucking it away to store it… somewhere. Hisoka hummed with it, low and curious; with the oddest thready snap, almost like leather, Hisoka withdrew his Shu from the amulet’s reach. He dangled it in front of Leorio.

“Here, try it,” he insisted.

With only a momentary flicker of startled hesitation, Leorio took it. “Try what?”

“Drawing from it.”

Leorio frowned at the amulet, bringing to close to his face as if he could observe it better while cross-eyed. “What am I feeling for?”

“I have no idea,” Hisoka said honestly. “Just _try_ it.”

The creases of Leorio’s frown deepened as he continued to stare at it, eyebrows furrowing in what Hisoka assumed was overly intense concentration.

Then the man inhaled sharply; the light emanating from the amulet danced before Hisoka’s yellow eyes as it flared to life. The corners of his lips stretched taut as energy arced from the amulet to waver about Leorio’s body, then assimilate with his Ten.

“It works,” Leorio said, in wonderment. “I can… feel it.”

An unspeaking moment passed. The muted glow sputtered before it died, and the amulet hung uselessly from Leorio’s grip.

“I suppose we’ll soon see if it _really_ does,” Hisoka commented mildly, taking the artifact from Leorio and settling back into his seat in self-satisfaction.

* * *

 

Ever more careful than Leorio gave him credit for, Hisoka had the driver stop several blocks before Leorio’s apartment complex. The glare from the glittering city center partially illuminated their path, but here in the outskirts, there were still plenty of buildings and outcroppings that cast deep and dark shadows. Hisoka held the amulet in his palm as he walked, filtering in as much of his own aura as the restraints of the trinket would allow. Leorio walked before him, hands shoved into his spacious pockets and his shoulders hunched. The two of them didn’t bother trying to initiate conversation.

Leorio stopped short before the reaching darkness of his narrow street, then took a wary step backwards. Hisoka only barely looked up before their roadblock made itself known, emerging from Zetsu.

“Long time no see, Hisoka,” Shalnark remarked from the shadows, flanked by two silently watchful companions. The smile slipped from his face before he even looked up from his phone; the digital glow illuminated the furrow in his brow. He completely ignored Leorio.

“Yes, a pity,” Hisoka returned lightly, and let his aura expand to test the waters.

Shalnark was steadfast. “Welcome back to the city. And farewell, too, I think, right?”

“So quick to say goodbye?”

“Oh, sure,” Shalnark said easily. “Kalluto says they gave your our warning. I expect you’ll follow it.”

“And if I don’t?”

He shrugged. “It won’t make much of a difference to us, in the end.”

“Hmm. I think it will,” Hisoka said, with an insincere curve to his smile.

“I really don’t want to fight you, Hisoka.” said Shalnark intently, eying the chain that was wrapped around the magician’s fingers. “We’ve had a decent run, and I suppose you haven’t actually _done_ much.”

Hisoka’s smile tightened just a fraction, dangerously close to cracking his face paint.

Shalnark’s gaze flickered back up to meet his, unafraid. “You want the amulet? Go ahead, keep it.”

“Why, thank you,” Hisoka crooned, carefully saccharine. Beside him, Leorio tensed, but luckily none of the Phantom Troupe seemed to notice - or care. “Of course, you never really wanted it anyway, did you - you would have just taken it.”

“Very nicely spotted,” said Shalnark, and shrugged. “Sure. We don’t conduct full raids without the whole Troupe, and - well, that amulet isn’t all that rare. _Buying_ works just fine for us.”

Kortopi blinked a single bulbous eye at Hisoka. Counterfeit coin, then.

“You want it so badly?” Shalnark continued. “Take it. I’d rather not spill your blood if I don’t have to.”

“How considerate.”

The Troupe members all scrutinized him. “You’re out of here by tomorrow night,” said Shalnark, “and this never happened. Yeah?”

“That was the plan,” Hisoka assured him breezily, snaking the gold chain through spidery fingers.

“Glad to hear it. I hope I never see you again, Hisoka.”

“Uhff. You’ve hurt me,” Hisoka whined with false despair. “You can’t _really_ mean that.”

“If we see you again, we _will_ kill you.”

“Hmm.” The magician bent at the waist to see them better, and licked his lips with a wink. “Now I’m looking forward to seeing you try. You’ve always been so charming, Shal.” He summarily pocketed the amulet, and drew his deck of cards.

He counted on Shalnark understanding the action. “Don’t push me, Hisoka,” he warned, his smile frozen. “Goodnight.”

He lifted himself from where he had been leaning casually against the wall, and stepped between Hisoka and Leorio.

“By the way. Good to see you again, Tall Angry Guy,” Shalnark said as he passed, patting Leorio on the shoulder, cheerily enough that it was almost believable. Without looking back, Shalnark and company made their way back down the dimmer streets, fading into the shadows as they headed back towards the west end.

Leorio stayed silent until all three of the Troupe members were well and truly gone, and then he let out a heavy breath. “You need to stop testing your luck, you bastard,” Leorio groused, eyes dark as he glanced at Hisoka, continuing on down the alley.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Hisoka asked freely, arching his back in a luxurious stretch before deigning to follow the man. “Besides, we were in no _real_ danger.”

“Yeah, sure,” Leorio said waspishly. “Because you’re here?”

“Because _I’m_ here,” Hisoka finished grandly, pretending he didn’t hear Leorio.

He was answered only with a deep sigh, and then silence.

They approached the apartment. Leorio seemed to be mustering his words. “I know he said tomorrow night, but… You two should go, as soon as possible,” he said eventually. “Leave the city first thing.”

“I thought you said we could stay for two days,” Hisoka pointed out mildly, with just a hint of accusation.

“First of all, I only said that _Gon_ could stay,” the man countered, crossing his arms with a huff. “But the Troupe found you tonight, and you heard what they said - and all you did was piss them off.”

“I should hope so.” He licked his lips as he thought of it; the idea of facing off with them sent a subtle shiver down his spine, as intoxicating as the taste of blood. He could just stay the extra day - and see what they did, what they’d _dare_ to do -

He looked at Leorio. Leorio’s face was mottled. “ _No_ -! See, this is exactly what -!” He took a steadying breath. “ _Don’t you get that you’re putting Gon into danger like this_?”

Cards flickered dangerously between Hisoka’s fingers, disguised his surprise. “Are you saying I can’t protect him?” he murmured.

“I’m saying I can’t trust you to even _think_ about protecting him! You only care about yourself!” Leorio’s fists were clenched. Fury made his breath short. “If you want to accompany him, learn to walk away from some things! Otherwise, leave now!”

Hisoka paused, taken aback. It was true that he still had to grow accustomed to having a traveling companion. It certainly… _complicated_ things. He smiled at Leorio, broad and calculated. “You make a fair point, doctor,” he said, not quite a purr but close enough to make Leorio retreat a step. “Having him around will certainly make things more _interesting_.” Between his fingers, two cards became one, and he slipped it back into the deck before pocketing it. “But your concern is unnecessary. I can take care of the both of us. Don’t underestimate me… or Gon. It was his choice.”

Leorio’s eyes flickered upward, as if he were praying to whatever god that existed for the patience he didn’t have. Hisoka was hilariously familiar with that expression. “Choose your fights, is all I’m saying. For Gon’s sake. You don’t know what people like the Phantom Troupe will do - actually, I know _exactly_ what people like the Phantom Troupe will do to Gon if they think it will get them the advantage.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Hisoka admonished, going back to tossing the amulet in the air and catching it, needing the stimulation of something passing between his hands. “I always choose my fights. That’s what makes them interesting. Now I simply have more… _constraints_ to consider in the game.”

“I hate you,” Leorio said stiffly, quietly, and refrained from saying anything else. He jammed the key into the lock, and wrestled with it.

Huh. Leorio had expressed that often, but that wasn’t quite… the response he’d been looking for, this time. Hisoka blinked slowly, weighing his words on his tongue, finding the right tone.

“We’ll leave tomorrow,” he told Leorio measuredly, and flicked at his dangling earring with a long nail. “We’ll be heading north - on the train, the Central Redding. For a few days.”

From what he knew of the York New train station, the Central Redding North was a popular enough route that a train left the station every day at 7 am. The important thing was that it went north - from its stop in Miredale, they’d have to train-hop to the northeast.

Leorio paused before he twisted the handle. “Thanks,” he said eventually, shortly, like it was the bitterest thing he’d ever tasted. “We have to let Gon know,” he added as he opened the door.

“Let me know what?” a small voice inquired from the darkness of the apartment.

“G-Gon!” Leorio clutched at his chest, taking a deep breath to recover from a near-stumble. He flicked on the light. “What are you doing _up_ , Gon?”

The boy sat on the couch, his legs curled into his chest as he watched the door. He pressed his face to his knees. “I was waiting for you. Tell me what?”

Hisoka side-stepped past Leorio to lean against the wall, watching Gon without moving his head in his direction. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning, Gon,” he said, running a quick hand through crimson hair.

Gon stared at him owlishly, then shifted his attention to Leorio. “Why?”

Leorio visibly buckled beneath the pressure of Gon’s gaze. “Gon, I… I’m sorry, but in light of, uh, recent events…” He made his way to the couch and laid a hand on Gon’s head. “I think it’s best if you guys leave tomorrow. Follow… whatever lead it was that Hisoka unearthed.”

“Oh… Okay. But, Leorio…” Gon stared up at him, eyes wide and liquid amber. “What about you?”

“Me? Don’t worry about me,” Leorio assured him, and ruffled his hair. “I’ve got some work I need to take care of, anyway. Well - I’ve always got work to take care of. And then I’ll… head off for the expedition, I guess.”

Gon chewed his lip. “Call before you leave, okay?” His smile was sunny. “It’ll be good for you to see Kurapika again!”

Leorio huffed through his nose. “Yeah, Gon.”

Gon’s eyes slid to where Hisoka stood watching from the corner, and then back to Leorio. “Where did you go?” he asked. “I waited, and then you were gone.”

“The auction house,” Hisoka cut in dryly, when Leorio took too long to answer.

“I should have told you where we were going, Gon,” Leorio said regretfully. “But I didn’t even know until - I thought you were asleep.”

Gon's eyes were somewhat distant; then he scratched at the back of his head, his teeth glinting white in a smile. “I wish I could have gone,” he said.

“Believe me when I say it’s for the best that you hadn’t,” Leorio told him seriously.

Gon opened his mouth to question this.

“We got you a little something,” Hisoka said over him, voice saccharine, “to try.” The amulet jangled as it fell from his hand, then swung like a pendulum as the chain caught on his waiting finger.

“Neat!” Gon exclaimed, suitably distracted. “...What is it?”

“It stores Nen, apparently,” said Hisoka, gazing at it with the same clinical interest he usually reserved for Gon. He flicked it, renewing its swing. “I thought you may be able to use it,” he explained, now watching as Gon’s bemusement morphed into a cautious hope. “You know _how_ to use Nen. You simply lack it. Perhaps this will… catalyze the reinitiation process.”

“You really think so?” Gon asked, reaching out to take it from Hisoka.

The magician let it drop into Gon’s imploring grasp. “Perhaps. I’ve charged it with my own energy.”

“So… pretend it’s just my own?”

“Precisely.” Hopefully.

“Hmmmmmm….” Gon’s fingers closed around the small gold disc of the amulet, obscuring the triskelion. His face scrunched in concentration, and he stared at his empty hand, visibly struggling for some sign of Nen activation. “ _Hmmmmm_ …..” Sweat beaded at the boy’s temple, and he took a violent breath, as though he were moments away from drowning. “I - I can’t -”

“It’s okay, Gon,” Leorio said gently, running a hand through Gon’s hair. “It’s okay.”

“Can you…” He looked back and forth between Leorio and Hisoka, imploring. Hisoka looked away, avoiding his gaze by redirecting his attention to somewhere beyond Gon’s head. “Can you… _see_ anything?”

Even with Gyo, there was nothing. “No,” Hisoka said flatly, finding no reason to mince words.

Leorio just shook his head when Gon’s gaze drifted to him.

Gon crumpled, his arms falling and the amulet hanging limply from his fist.

“Hey,” Leorio said when his eyes glistened. “You’re okay, Gon. You don’t need to hurt yourself trying this. It was just a shot in the dark - you’ve still got time.” He drew the boy to his chest, hugging him close, murmuring encouraging nothings that made Hisoka want to vomit.

This was not the Gon that Hisoka knew. The fires that usually lingered were doused, and he clung to Leorio with more ferocity than the magician expected. Hisoka wondered about those months, when he had disappeared to NGL and came back… markedly different. And not different in the way that Hisoka had hoped for.

Gon’s attention was on him now even as he hugged Leorio. There was… fear there, in the way he held himself, and Hisoka kept himself from smiling wryly. He knew, at least, that he didn’t have nearly as much time as Leorio would like to think, and that Hisoka himself would see to that. Hisoka looked away first, picking at his long pink nails, tucking away his bloodlust deep in his core and pretending to be nonplussed.

“Thanks, Leorio,” Gon said as they parted. “You’re right. We still have Hisoka’s lead, after all.” He considered the amulet, then strung it over his head so that it settled on his chest. “Until I can learn to use it, this can be my good luck charm!”

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s the spirit, Gon,” Leorio encouraged, and ruffled his hair.

* * *

 

“You should make yourself scarce for the rest of the night,” Leorio suggested less than kindly, once he’d put Gon to bed. “I _really_ don’t want you under my roof.”

Hisoka stared at him measuredly, keeping his face stony.

Only a flicker in his eyes gave away the truth that Leorio was still, on some level, scared of him - the magician was impressed. A ripening fruit, indeed.

“I wasn’t intending on sleeping, anyway,” he said, disaffected by Leorio’s hostility.

“Good,” Leorio said. “Now get out of my apartment.”

“Yes, yes,” Hisoka sighed, complying but incredibly slowly, just to see Leorio get riled. “No reason to be so _rude_ about it.”

With Gon sleeping in the other room, Leorio was forbidden from yelling, but the minimal distance between his pinched brows must have been a fairly accurate measure of how close he was to snapping, regardless.

“I’m going,” Hisoka relented.

The door hit his butt as it swung closed behind him. Hisoka fervently wished he could have teased Leorio about it, seen the way the man would have reacted if Hisoka had licked his lips and crooned. Another time, perhaps.

He used Bungee Gum to vault his way to the roof of the apartment building, landing fluid and feline on the dirty, ramshackle tile slats. From here, he could oversee the tops of the neighboring buildings, and out onto the main streets; downtown, the lights of the city still flashed, with people and vehicles bustling about it like moths drawn to the flame. He looked up to see the stars, but they were largely blotted out by the artificial lights.

He settled himself down, crossing his legs and casting out a 30 meter radius of En. It wouldn’t do to have any unannounced visitors; his cards flickered between his fingers before he started up another careful card tower. Every so often he would raise his eyes to look out over the city, and in snippets he watched the moon duck down behind the towers and the distant mountains.

His card tower spanned several storeys by the time the moon disappeared. The circle of En went undisturbed.

* * *

 

It was a hazy-bright morning, the sun glinting harshly between buildings and trees, and slotting itself into every available space within the smog and low clouds so that its light seemed to be coming from everywhere.

Hisoka was almost convinced that Gon was solar powered. He soaked up the early morning sunlight, bouncing on the balls of his feet with a boundless energy. There was no trace of an exhaustion that might have clung to him from too little sleep - which, for someone not sustained by a constant and balanced Nen flow like Hisoka, was impressive.

The boy didn’t even flinch when Hisoka hopped from his perch on the roof to join them. “Morning, Hisoka,” he greeted cheerily.

His fingers tugged at the straps of his backpack, pulled taut against him, the cloth straining at the corners between the stress from his hands and the sizable fishing pole that poked out above Gon’s head.

The shadow that had lingered behind Gon’s eyes was absent. The glint that had taken its place could have been mistaken for a refraction of the sun, but Hisoka knew where to look, and when the boy looked up at him he recognized it as excitement. Hisoka felt the ignition of something in - or perhaps, just below - his gut, and his smile made his old face paint crack.

Gon step was bouncy all the way to the station, staying close to Leorio’s more hunched figure, with Hisoka just pace behind. The cityscape was already bustling; or rather, the frantic movement of people had never quite ceased, and was already beginning to redouble as workers started their morning commute.

“Ah,” Hisoka remarked as they stood before the timetable. “The departure for the Central Redding North is in…” He glanced at the wall clock. “Ten minutes. How lucky.”

“I’d better let you get in line,” Leorio said to Gon, who held tightly to his hand.

“Yeah,” Gon said, then hesitated.

Hisoka moved to join the queue himself, and give the two their space - he _certainly_ didn’t want to be around for their moment of undoubtedly cloying sentiment - but before he took his leave, he paused in front of Leorio.

“Leorio,” he began sweetly, and held out his hand.

“Uh?” Leorio said eloquently.

The magician flicked his wrist, and between his fingers was a business card, bright bubblegum pink and stylishly pearlescent. “If you want to start _really_ improving,” Hisoka said, a coy quirk to his lips, “here’s my card, and I’ll show you some truly amazing Nen techniques.”

His perplexion clear, Leorio took the card, flipping it in his hand. It was nicely minimalist: the front of the card was stamped only with Hisoka’s personal emoji, and the back read “ _hunterwiki.org/wikia/hisoka-morow/bungee-gum_ ” in scrawling letters. It was his own personal page about Bungee Gum that he had written himself, in full detail, and frankly he thought it was something to be proud of.

Leorio stared at him.

“You can thank me later,” Hisoka said graciously.

His voice reedy, Leorio stuffed the card haphazardly into his pocket and managed, “Please just… go.”

Hisoka went, but not without a sly smile and a passing, “I _do_ look forward to the next time we meet.”

“I don’t.”

The magician said nothing, but took his place in line, and watched from afar.

Leorio’s pained look trailed him for only a moment before the man refocused on Gon entirely. Crouching, Leorio swept Gon up in his arms, and suddenly vulnerable, Gon clung to his shoulders, burying his face in his neck.

“Be safe, kiddo,” Leorio said.

“You too,” Gon returned, and the silence between them was heavy.

“Good luck.”

“You too,” said Gon, and then he curled his arms tighter. “I’m going to miss you, Leorio.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, Gon, don’t you doubt it.” The gears churning in Leorio’s mind were audible. “And I know that if he were here, Kurapika would say the same.”

“You’ll call, right?”

“Yeah, of course. We promised, didn’t we?”

Gon’s face was completely hidden, his words muffled and hard to make out. “...Promises aren’t always kept,” he murmured.

Leorio held him at arm’s length so that he could look him in the eye. “Hey, don’t be getting down on yourself, now. I promised, so of course you’ll hear from me soon.” He ruffled Gon’s hair. “Where’s the optimism from before?”

Gon’s lips cracked into a smile. “Still here,” he said, voice stronger.

“Yeah, you are.” He hugged Gon once more, then said, “You’d better get going. Ten minutes goes quick.”

Wordlessly, Gon rejoined Hisoka, who pretended he hadn’t been listening to everything, and with a bit more money spent on Hisoka’s part, ended up with a matching ticket for their sleeper car - a cramped little thing since they were buying so late. But they got one, though Hisoka would be lying if he said he _hadn’t_ had to use a little mix of monetary and intimidating coercion - but Gon didn’t seem to have qualms about it. The look in his eyes told Hisoka he was too absentminded to care.

Leorio stood only a few meters away the whole time, watching the proceedings.

As soon as they boarded and found their car, Gon stuck his head out of the window and waved at a teary-eyed Leorio.

“Bye, Leorio!” Gon called. “I’ll see you again soon! When I have my Nen back, just like old times!”

Leorio replied something just as the train whistle blew. He gestured with two fingers to indicate he had his eye on Hisoka. Then at Gon he smiled wide enough to knock his glasses a bit askew, waving enthusiastically.

Gon replied in kind, and kept his head out the window long after Leorio was no longer visible.

“Lovely,” Hisoka purred once the train pulled away from the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright hey! We've gotten to the main chunk of the plot, and our boys are finally off on their adventure into the wild wild nowhere.  
> I'm going to miss writing Leorio and Hisoka together, which - I can admit - is the reason I've drawn out their stay in York New for SO LONG  
> But Leorio's just my favorite
> 
> As always, thanks so much for sticking around, I appreciate it so much


	11. Hisoka x Gon x Teacher?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enclosed spaces make Gon restless, and Hisoka is a... good?... teacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm not dead...  
>  But we're back here with Gon's perspective which was different after so long with Hisoka

Ships were much better than trains, Gon decided early on.

He had never been the biggest fan of trains. They were stifling and boring. This train in particular was humid with the press of hot bodies, which far overpowered the one or two cracked windows that attempted to aerate the cars. There was also a distinct lack of Killua, who had made the trips on the railways bearable in the past - they at least had known how to make each other laugh to fill the time.

Gon missed Killua terribly, and he also missed the open air of the ocean and climbable masts and endless buffets.

Trains did not have buffets, which Gon had known objectively, but the knowledge hadn’t spared him the twinge in his stomach when he went to the dining car and they told him that ordering extra meals would be costly.

Which meant that Gon’s only sources of entertainment were to stare out of the window - which he had tired of ages ago - or… Hisoka.

The magician in question was sitting cross-legged and humming contentedly to himself as he stacked cards on cards, either oblivious to or dismissive of Gon’s plight. Gon watched him for a time, feeling the familiar itch of restlessness slither beneath his skin, and it wasn’t long until Hisoka’s meticulous process grew similarly uninteresting. He considered getting up and pacing.

“Practice your meditation,” Hisoka suggested abruptly, startling Gon.

An upwards flicker of his yellow eyes was all that alerted Gon to the idea that Hisoka had been paying attention to him all along, and by then the magician had already busied himself again.

Gon was doubtful that meditating would do him any good when he had no Nen to speak of. He wasn’t even sure if he could allow himself to sit still for long enough to fall into a meditative state - but he hardly had any other options, what with the only other thing available being… His eyes strayed toward his backpack, which lay discarded nearby, and thought about the paperwork that lay within. He shuddered.

Gon lifted his legs so that he also sat criss-cross, wriggling in his seat until he was passably comfortable. Breathe in, breathe out. He let the summer humidity make his mind numb, and closed his eyes.

* * *

 

When he opened them, Hisoka was gone, and he was left alone in the too-small car. Despite having one less person to fill the space, the walls seemed just as oppressively close as they did before. The flooring rattled as the train passed over a rough patch in the tracks. A thin layer of sweat clung to his skin, and the warm cloying air made it impossible for it to evaporate, which only served to amplify his discomfort. He thought that if boredom could be made physical, this is what it would feel like: sticky skin, in an enclosed space just this side of too hot.

He wasn’t sure how late it was, but a cursory glance out of the window told him that not much time had even passed; from the position of the blazing sun it had been perhaps only a couple of hours. He groaned, throwing himself back; his head hit the wall with a dull thud. He could feel the vibrations jittering up through the wall and into his skull, and the weird buzzing of it was maybe the most entertaining thing to happen to him in _forever_ , until it got overwhelming and he had to lift himself away.

He stood and paced as well as he could one or two or three times, then flung the door open after determining that walking up and down the entire train would be at least more entertaining.

The awful creaking groan of metal on metal sounded above him. Instinctively he tensed, readying himself for a fight - or flight - and as he turned he watched the hatch in the roof open slowly outward to reveal the blue, blue sky.

There was a blur of cherry red and candied pink and then Hisoka was there, craning his neck through the hatch to peer at Gon.

Upside-down. On the top of the moving train.

“Gon,” the magician greeted casually, as if he wasn’t upside-down on a moving train. His eyes were half-lidded and his lips upturned, looking awfully pleased with himself.

“Uh,” Gon said, _almost_ letting himself relax. “What’cha doing up there?” He didn’t close the car door.

“You’re bored, aren’t you?” Hisoka asked instead, clambering farther into their shared compartment, spidery and somewhat unsettling in his movement. He had to be using Bungee Gum to do that. “Come up here with me and I’ll show you.”

This felt like a bad idea. With Hisoka involved, it had to be. But getting on top of a train in motion - and staying up there - sounded like a challenge that Gon could meet. It sounded a little like fun, actually. And he was so very bored and _un_ challenged. He eased the door closed.

“Okay,” he said.

He kind of regretted it when Hisoka looked even more pleased with himself, his smile curling up into a cheshire grin. “Get up here, then,” Hisoka invited, and then disappeared back through the hatch.

Gon was left to figure out his own way up. He couldn’t have really expected any less of the magician. Fine, then. That was doable.

He looked around the car for something he could climb. Most of the furniture was in some way bolted to the floor, which meant that he couldn’t move anything to a better place. He shifted his gaze to the bunk beds - if he climbed up and positioned himself right, he should be able to reach the hatch.

He hefted himself to the top bed and tried to stand, his toes to the edge, his head and shoulders hunched to avoid hitting the ceiling. He swung his arms out a few times, gauging the distance and warming his muscles, and then jumped.

His fingers just barely caught the edge of the hatch, and he scrabbled at it for a moment before he was able to find his balance again. Feeling the slightest strain in his upper arms, he hauled himself to the top of the train.

He was almost immediately shoved back through the hatch by the buffeting winds. They tore at his skin, pricking his face like hundreds of needle points, and he screwed his eyes shut, tears leaking at the corners. He crouched low to the roof of the train, bracing himself against the high velocities.

“You made it,” Gon heard Hisoka praise.

He peeled his eyes open, squinting, to see Hisoka standing before him, nonchalantly picking at his sharp nails. With a small grunt of effort, Gon stood, inching away from the hatch opening so he didn’t get thrown back into the car.

“Why are we up here?” Gon shouted above the wind, his skin going numb as he slowly acclimatized to train-top conditions.

“Training,” Hisoka answered blithely, making his voice somehow audible even though he wasn’t yelling.

Gon’s face must have betrayed his confusion, because Hisoka continued, “Until you regain your Nen, you need to know how to defend yourself without it. You already have some skill in hand-to-hand combat, true, but you lack finesse, and any real enemy worth their salt could take you down.”

Gon blinked and rubbed away more of the tears that vainly tried to moisten his eyes.

“So we’re going to start sparring,” Hisoka finished grandly.

“Up here?” Gon asked.

“Where else?”

“Good point,” Gon conceded, still fighting against the wind.

“Besides,” Hisoka said, “we’re hardly about to start off _easy_.”

“That’s fair.” Gon slid one leg behind him and settled on his haunches in his customary fighting stance.

“Gon,” Hisoka advised, ready in his own familiar, fairly languid posture. “If there are openings, take them - if there are none, make them.”

Gon only acknowledged Hisoka by darting forward, struggling to move swiftly against the flow of the wind. Hisoka had the advantage of the wind at his back; he blocked Gon easily, upsetting Gon’s balance and following through with a blow to the sternum that knocked the air from Gon’s lungs.

In the second that Gon allowed himself to recover, he looked Hisoka over. The magician was favoring his left side - whether unintentionally or not; if Gon could just feint, he could make it around to the other side and have the wind’s advantage.

Gon was immediately and unpleasantly reminded of their Heavens Arena showdown - only this time, he had neither the space nor the power to perform the same dazzling, distracting tactics. It didn’t sit well with him.

Hisoka was good at waiting patiently for Gon to make the next move, entirely confident in the idea that he would be able to counter whatever Gon threw at him, and that it would take more than one punch for Gon to realize any particular method of attack. Gon dipped and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the reach of Hisoka’s claws; with more strength than he thought he had, he jumped back up adjacent to Hisoka’s left side and landed a punch, as grazing as it was.

A hand was reaching out towards Gon’s face before he could even blink, and something about Hisoka’s proximity made Gon’s blood thunder in his ears; his heart pounded hard against his ribs, making him dizzy, threatening to break free. His teeth were set on edge. This was Hisoka’s bloodlust, rippling along his skin and leaving goosebumps. Gon grit his jaw, and with effort he made himself duck, almost tripping up with the wind and the clatter of the train. Sharply clawed fingers just missed slicing at his eyes.

Breath came short, but it came, and Gon balled his fists, more frustrated than scared. He thought about his fishing rod, still in his backpack - but no, that was the point, Hisoka said hand-to-hand - but how was this supposed to help him with his finesse when this was just a struggle to keep up -?

“Focus, Gon,” Hisoka coaxed, taking just the slightest step back to give Gon the chance to shake himself into concentration. “Finesse doesn’t mean you can’t play dirty,” he added, as if he’d read Gon’s mind. “It means _survival_. It means _precision_. You’ve spent so long teaching yourself to be a bludgeon - now teach yourself how to be an arrow. Or a lure on a fishing pole, if you’d like.”

Gon could still feel the crackle of his bloodlust, like lightning that lingered in the clouds before it struck, but Hisoka must have reigned it in - it no longer crawled up his forearms, and it was easier for Gon to think about fighting.

An arrow. A lure. Back to when he had to rely only on being nimble. He thought about the King of the Swamp and dazzlingly pink worms. He thought about Hisoka’s cards, and about Killua and the Zoldycks, and he wasn’t quite sure that style was very… _him_ , but he couldn’t deny that finesse was its own kind of powerful.

Hisoka didn’t give him much time to think on it. The magician struck first this time, moving with inhuman speed toward him. Acting on instinct, Gon ducked low, crouching close to the train roof with one leg outstretched; he kicked out at Hisoka’s heels, and nearly caught him before Hisoka leapt away. The latter spun quickly and landed a blow to Gon’s gut with his knee, winding the boy and claiming the advantage with a grin.

“Lighter on your toes, Gon,” he admonished.

Staggering, Gon just managed to dodge Hisoka’s next jab. He furrowed his brow. Hisoka was focusing his attacks on compensating for Gon’s smaller stature, meaning that with the kicks and lower arm movements, he was leaving his upper body less protected…

Thinking of how Killua moved, Gon weaved between Hisoka’s limbs and jumped, aiming a precise uppercutting punch to his jaw.

Hisoka brought up his arms, using one to bat Gon away and the other to roughly shove him back by the solar plexus. “ _Very_ good, Gon,” he commended even as he did so. “On anyone with less experience, that probably would have been a hit,” he added, managing to sound both impressed and self-important.

Gon landed hard, one of his knees bowing beneath him and forcing him to throw out his hands to keep himself from face-planting. His chest ached, both from the blow and the churning emotions that threatened to boil over. Habitually he tugged at the place where his Nen should be, and faltered when, despite the anger and frustration and hurt and _fear_ , he still felt nothing. It was so _wrong_ , when he could sense Hisoka’s bloodlust but couldn’t even open up his nodes enough to see it.

He had to be better. He _had_ to be better. He stared at Hisoka, and tried to think past the bile that burned in his throat.

“That look,” Hisoka moaned, bringing his knee forward to rail at Gon again. “There’s the fire I’ve wanted to see… _Yes_ , Gon -”

Don’t tense up, he begged his muscles. Don’t tense up…

He waited until Hisoka’s strike was too close to finding its mark for the magician to change course, and then Gon gathered all of his remaining strength to roll to the side. Hisoka’s balance would be upset, and he left his right side a bit open, and - Gon tried to sort through everything Killua ever told him about anatomy - if he jabbed right _there_ -

He darted forward, ignoring the discomfort and the protests deep in his bones, and dug his fingers into where Hisoka’s kidney - theoretically - should have been. He let out a wheeze he didn’t realize he’d been holding in.

Hisoka froze in place, his lips unfurling as he smiled so broadly that his face paint cracked. “ _Excellent_ , Gon,” he said breathily, and stood there a moment even after Gon broke contact, as if he was taking the time to savor it. Like those overrated wine tasters Gon had seen in marketplaces.

Gon backed away, shaking out the tension from his limbs, forcing his muscles to obey even when all he wanted to do was lay down.

Hisoka appeared to be back to his ordinary self - whatever that meant by Hisoka’s standards - by the time he’d finished psyching himself back up.

“Again,” the magician demanded.

* * *

 

It seemed that that had been the only time Gon would get lucky that day.

Hisoka’s barriers were up for real now, and among the flurry of punches and kicks and dips it was impossible to find another weak spot. Above them, the sky melted from a bright blue to a dark blue, then to a hazy orange as the sun dipped low. The chill of the winds grew even sharper.

Gon’s arms shook from exertion, but he could still get back up. He wasn’t about to quit if he could help it.

Hisoka’s knee connected with Gon’s abdomen again in a moment of heedlessness, and Gon fell, his already-frozen fingers hitting the icy metal hard. He dry-heaved, then struggled back to his feet, swaying in the strong winds. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve even though only spittle had come out.

“That’s enough,” Hisoka said, and stood normally.

“What? No! I can keep going -”

“That’s _enough_ , Gon. Your recklessness is exciting, truly, but I’m not about to let you hurt yourself irreparably.” Hisoka walked close and laid a spindly hand on Gon’s hair, which was stiff with dried sweat. “We’re done for today. You’ve already improved more than I expected - you continue to amaze me, hm, Gon?”

Gon forced himself to stand upright, muscles rigid, and clenched his fist. “But - it’s fine, I can still…” He lurched.

“Gon!”

He passed out cold before he even hit the train roof.

* * *

 

He awoke encased in warmth, and once he regained his ability to think he immediately thought that this what babies in their swaddles felt like all the time, which wasn’t so bad. Until he wriggled in his swath of heat, only to find that he couldn’t move very much at all. He blinked the bleariness from his eyes to observe his surroundings.

He was in… the train car. He was most decidedly in bed too, and looking down he realized that not only was he covered in blankets - he was completely rolled up in them. But the sheets were fairly thin, and it felt like there was an additional weight surrounding him as well that even more decidedly pinned him down.

An odd rustling of papers drew his attention to their small side table, where Hisoka sat - rifling through his backpack. He vaguely remembered overexerting himself, but nothing in his recent memory could justify what Hisoka was occupying himself with.

Gon tried to say something, but didn’t quite manage to open his mouth all the way, so all he made was a weird sound.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Hisoka remarked, looking over at him, and not even trying to be subtle about going through Gon’s belongings. “Are you enjoying the warmth?”

“Uh,” said Gon.

“I used Bungee Gum as the final layer,” Hisoka continued, as though Gon has asked. “Seeing as it has the properties of both rubber and gum, it stuck to the other blankets very nicely while adding additional insulation. It’s also rigid enough that you won’t be moving anywhere - wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself in your sleep, of course.” It was obvious that he was very proud of this.

“Thanks,” Gon said, unimpressed but genuinely touched by the sentiment. “D’you think you could let me go now though?”

“I thought you’d appreciate being a Gon Burrito,” Hisoka commented, but released his Nen. He let Gon work himself free from his blanket wrappings.

“...I’m on the bottom bunk,” Gon observed flatly once he could at least sit up, fighting back a wince at the strain in his muscles.

“Yes?”

“But we never even _decided_ …”

“Gon, I staked my claim on the top bunk. I always get the top bunk. That’s just how it is.”

“I’ll beat you in Rock, Paper, Scissors for it.”

“...Nah,” Hisoka concluded, then continued flicking through Gon’s paperwork. “By the way, Gon,” he said, waving Gon’s maths homework before him. “What’s all this?”

“...Homework that Mito gave me,” Gon admitted quietly.

“But it’s not done,” Hisoka felt it necessary to point out, quizzically.

“Nope…”

“But if you were so _bored_ …”

Gon threw his head back, groaning. “Because I’m not _good_ at math and I don’t _like_ doing it.” What weirdo liked doing math?

Hisoka was silent for a while as he scanned the pages. “This is simple enough,” he said eventually. “Because of my profession, I had to teach myself to do calculus mentally.” Of course he did. “It’s essential, not just to keep up with card sharks but to moderate one’s Nen properly -”

“Hisokaaa _aaaa_ ,” Gon whined.

There was a speechless pause as Hisoka visibly weighed his words on his tongue. “I’m saying -” He flicked at his dangly earring. “I can help you.”

“Can we please go back to sparring,” Gon deadpanned.

“Definitely not,” Hisoka admonished. “But since you’re awake anyway -”

“I’m tired.”

“I can see you bouncing your foot up and down.”

“Can we eat first?” Gon’s stomach rumbled in a timely manner, for extra emphasis.

“Fine. But when we get back…” Hisoka got a wicked gleam in his yellow eyes that Gon definitely didn’t like. It wasn’t quite bloodlust, but for something as passive as mathematics… it was pretty close. Gon shuddered.

* * *

 

It was odd, but after Hisoka dragged him through his times tables for the fifth time, and gave detailed explanations on all the mental shortcuts he could take to find products or quotients, Gon felt a bit more confident in his mathematical skills. Which - they still weren’t great, but it was an improvement, and together they powered through the first couple of pages of his homework.

He was certainly not going to feel _grateful_ to Hisoka for forcing him to do math - not right now, anyway - but Hisoka really did make it… easier.

“Like this, see?” Hisoka demonstrated, marking the paper with a pencil stamped with the locomotive company’s logo.

“Where did you get that number.”

“From in front of the variable. They’re attached by the invisible multiplication sign, so you have to divide both sides - Here, do a similar problem.”

The magician sometimes used his cards to better explain numerical values and properties, and maybe it was having something physical to attribute these arbitrary numbers to, but Gon was starting to get an inkling as to how Hisoka performed mental math daily.

“This will help, when you get your Nen back,” Hisoka reminded him when he grew weary of sums. “It’s the key to calculating how much aura you should be emitting, and where.”

Feeling exhausted down to his soul, Gon yawned cavernously, and the magician-turned-sensei finally deigned it time to put the paperwork away. “We’ll continue this tomorrow,” he said.

“ _Ugh_ ,” was all Gon had to say to that before flopping back onto the bed.

He was awake only long enough to recognize that Hisoka had begun yet another card tower, and then he drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol so I know I've already lost some readers because I take too long to update but thank you so much to you guys who have stuck with me and are reading this, it keeps me going!


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